


The Land of Misfit Files

by RositaLG



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection, Panic Pandemic Posting, Quarantine boredom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 24,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RositaLG/pseuds/RositaLG
Summary: A collection of scenes and one shots from my notes file that don't fit anywhere else.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 166
Kudos: 282





	1. Too Legit to Quit

**Author's Note:**

> Who's having fun in this new roaring 20s, huh? Show of hands? 
> 
> I hope these misfit postings help connect us when we're isolated and cheer us when we're bored. And if that doesn't work, well, the movie is coming out on Monday!

A slammed door startled Phryne in the kitchen, nearly spilling her tea and she turned her head towards the noise.

“Jack?” She called out but got no response. When she made her way around the corner, she could tell that he was livid. “What happened?!” She asked, concerned.

“The Commissioner brought me in today to scold me about professionalism in the workplace. Apparently, the publicity surrounding our relationship is causing problems for the force, as if it’s any of his goddamn business what happens in my own home.” He scoffed as he threw his jacket down on the chair with a force that Phryne had never seen. “He called us working together an ethical liability!" He nearly spit the phrase as he stormed down the hall to his bedroom.

“What did you do?” She had to fight to keep pace with him.

“I reminded him that the entire point of having an investigator was to find enough evidence to close a case, and that my ability to do so relied on listening to anyone who may have valuable information, private citizens included. And as long as that information was accurate, empirical, and legal, I would continue seeking any and all avenues of keeping the city safe, their propriety be damned.” He slammed a drawer closed in anger.

“Jack! You know that won't win you any favors.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should. Those men are accustomed to loyalty for loyalty’s sake. The way that they see it, you were willing to turn your back on your colleagues, the Mayor, even your own father-in-law for the sake of doing the right thing. That makes men in power nervous and they will use any tool at hand to cut you out if you get too close to them. I don’t want it to be me.”

“I will not hide my life away as though it’s shameful, Phryne. And I certainly will not base my life choices on the opinions of every bloody person with a connection in this town,” he glared.

“I’m not saying that we need to hide, Jack, but we could certainly stand to be more discreet.”

“Why? We’re not doing anything wrong,” he defended stubbornly.

“That’s not the point!”

Jack growled and slammed the bathroom door closed, locking himself on the other side.

“Fine, you know what? You’re right. It’s your career, do with it what you like," she called through the door as she threw her hands up in the air. She took a deep breath, gathering herself before sitting down on the bed in exhaustion.

There was only a moment of silence before Jack opened the door to her, looking guilty for closing it on her in the first place. He held his arms out to the sides in a silent apology before taking a step back into the room.

“I’m sorry. It’s not your fault that I want to throw my badge into the Yarra right now.” He sat down next to her.

“It would be much harder solving cases without it," she acknowledged.

“That’s never stopped us before."

“No. It hasn’t,” she agreed with a small smile.

“We could open an agency of our own, be true partners for once. Dot could be our secretary,” he suggested hopefully and she rolled her eyes at the thought.

“Jack Robinson: private detective,” she tried the name out. “No, I don’t think so. It just doesn't have the same authoritative ring as Senior Detective Inspector.”

“Is that what this is? Authority?” He asked, pointing out his helplessness.

She chuckled sadly at his plight before watching him fall backwards onto the bed in self-pity. She smiled and fell backwards beside him in solidarity. She turned onto her side and rested her hand over his heart.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this city needs you,” she spoke quietly. “You’re the only one strong enough to take down the people who try to use their power for evil. I know that it’s a burden for you and I’ll never know the full cost to bear it, but you can’t quit. Because as helpless as you feel right now, you would feel even more helpless without that badge, having to watch people get away with terrible things and having no way to intercede. It would kill you. And that would kill me.”

“There are other ways to help,” he replied, mostly out of stubbornness.

“Not for you, love," she shook her head, knowing better. “You’ve wanted to be a policeman since you were a child. I have your original badge to prove it. You need the law and more importantly, it needs you.”

The sigh that came from him was more resignation than release but his shoulders relaxed and she took that as a sign in the right direction.

“But if one day, you decide that you are truly unhappy, then of course, we’ll find another way to do what we do best,” she promised. “But only if that’s what you want and not because some man in a blue suit decides it for us,” she scowled in annoyance.

Jack’s tired eyes began to sparkle with appreciation as he took in her sour face.

“I would, you know,” he informed her as he turned onto his side, “choose you.”

"Well, you said it yourself: you don't _always_ do the right thing," she used his own words against him.

"Don’t tell the Commissioner,” Jack joked.

"It's not funny, Jack," she said as a small wave of guilt lapped at her conscience for all of the times that Jack had strayed from his duty on her behalf. “You can’t blame him for feeling threatened. He's no match for our combined power and he knows it.”

“Even when we only use that power to share a bottle of wine, a hot bath, and a bed?"

"Especially then," she smiled. 

"Mm, we'd better wield it carefully then," he agreed as he leaned in for a kiss. 


	2. Arrossito

Jack and Hugh arrived together, coming around the back of the Stanley house late, but with good excuses at the ready.

“Wow,” Hugh smiled in amazement. 

The entire back patio was decorated with candles and lights and even Jack had to admit that it looked inviting, in an excessively rich sort of way. The summer evening had cooled nicely and everything had a subtle glow about it. He harbored a secret hope that Phryne had dressed for the occasion and that if he played his cards right, he could spend most of the night with his hand on the cool skin of her back under the starlight until she begged for an excuse to take him inside and have her way with him. 

Jack had barely made it around the house when he stopped dead in his tracks. He spun on his heel, turning his back on the scene before him and opened his mouth to speak in confidence to his Senior Constable.

“Collins, am I hallucinating?” 

He watched Hugh take in the scene over his shoulder. The young man’s dawning expression told him it was precisely as he feared.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Hugh broke the bad news.

“Jack!” Phryne announced. “You’re here.” 

He inhaled deeply, summoning the courage to turn around and wave politely. 

“Take good notes, Collins,” he whispered. “This might be the beginning of my suspicious death investigation.” 

“Go get ‘em, sir,” he encouraged.

Jack made his way over to a circle that even Dante couldn’t envision: Phryne, Concetta, and her new husband Dominic Conti were all chatting amongst themselves while Rosie Sanderson stood just a few steps away engrossed in a conversation with Prudence Stanley. 

Jack was definitely paying for some past sin.

“There you are,” Phryne smiled as he approached. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

Jack didn’t bother asking who ‘we’ referred to, he couldn’t bear to know the answer.

“We got called on unexpectedly,” he excused with a hand on her back and a quick kiss on the cheek. He definitely, absolutely was not thinking about the fact that most of the women within touching distance had been granted the same courtesy within the last few years. 

"You look like you need a drink,” Phryne gave him a once-over.

“I’ll get it,” Concetta offered, ever the hostess, even now. “No, no, resta, please,” she shook away Phryne’s attempts to do it. 

“Dominic and his brothers provided the wine for the evening. Isn’t that lovely?" Phryne asked Jack rhetorically. "In fact, they just purchased their own vineyard. Soon they’ll have Italian wines growing right here in Australia, no shipping required.” She beamed proudly as she wrapped herself around Jack’s arm in that way that still made him feel a bit too cocky for his own good. 

“That’s wonderful,” Jack said sincerely, wondering how much of this new vineyard was being sponsored by Phryne’s generosity. She knew that he had a preference for Italian reds after being spoiled by the Stranos’ never-ending imported supply and there was nothing that she would love more than supporting an underdog while simultaneously spoiling him. 

As Phryne chatted on in Italian for Dominic’s convenience, Jack watched him smile in that way that clever men usually did when they recognized her talents for what they were. It was comforting to know that the look of awe was universal. 

He took the unobserved moment to confirm Rosie’s ever-watchful gaze on him. There was a time when they would have shared a playful, knowing look when he caught her observing him from across the crowd. There was another time when it would have been a sharp and annoyed glare. Today, it was a subtle smile of acknowledgement that they were both in the same space and that was fine. 

When he saw that she was alone, Jack took the opportunity to head over and say hello. 

“Jack,” Rosie’s tone conveyed the fact that despite the difficulty of watching him interact with Phryne, she was trying her best to be supportive. He appreciated the effort. He knew it wasn’t easy to be on the other side. 

“Hello,” he smiled.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Rosie began as they slowly walked away from the crowd. 

Jack, an expert in her passive comments, didn’t need an explanation. While he’d been in Europe, Rosie had made it her mission to join every war committee she could find. When Jack had returned, he’d made no attempts to participate with her, unable to listen to Australian society discuss the war so naively from the safety of their island. They were all quick to shake his hand, thank him for his service, and use him as certain proof that their efforts had brought at least someone home alive and in one piece. He’d never had the strength to endure that particular lie. 

“If you can find a way to say no to Prudence Stanley, I’d love to know what it is.” Jack sighed, letting her know that he still hated it, but in this particular instance, he’d been well and truly conned. “I am loath to consider the price for being so late.” He glanced around furtively, wondering if he’d been found out yet. 

“That is an unenviable predicament,” Rosie grinned, taking pleasure in his pain. “City South is still as demanding as ever, I suppose?” She took a sip of her wine.

“You know better than most,” Jack gave her credit for a lifetime of suffering a policeman’s hours.

“Gianni, tuo vino,” Concetta handed him a glass. 

It was dolcetto, his favorite, and she knew it. 

“Grazie mille.” He noticed Rosie’s double take when she heard him speaking Italian. “Rosie, this is Concetta Conti. Concetta, this is Rosie Sanderson, my, uh, former wife.”

“Oh!” Concetta looked surprised for only a moment before schooling her features. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” 

The pair shook hands as a bead of sweat dripped slowly down Jack’s spine. 

“How do you two know each other?” Rosie asked politely, looking back and forth between them. 

Jack took a well-timed, rather long, sip of his wine and Rosie got the message as Concetta took the lead. 

“My husband was killed a few years ago and Gianni, Jack,” she corrected herself, “solved the case," Concetta explained. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Rosie frowned sympathetically. 

“Thank you,” Concetta accepted. “Jack came to our restaurant many times to eat and talk during that time and we became friends, si?” she smiled, a slightly nostalgic look in her eye.

“Si,” he agreed, his face warming as he could hear Rosie's mental mathematics from two steps away. 

Concetta brushed his jaw with the back of her fingers in that familiar way that had once made Phryne so jealous. 

“Gianni, you are arrossito,” she murmured, trying to find the word, “flushed?” She asked for confirmation that it was the right term. 

“Mm, it's a warm night,” he excused with a smile, setting his now empty glass aside. 

"Ah," Concetta smirked knowingly.

“Concetta, veini qui,” Dominic gestured towards the house. 

“Si, I am coming,” she waved him off before turning back to Jack. “You are bringing Miss Fisher to visit the vineyard next week.”

“Am I?” Jack tilted his head curiously. 

“What am I making you for dinner?”

This visibly lifted Jack's spirits and she laughed at his pleased reaction. He hadn’t had any of Concetta’s cooking since he had banished himself from Strano’s.

“Concetta!” Dominic called again.

“Si!” She called again before muttering something exasperatedly in Italian that Jack hadn’t heard since the war and he chuckled at her tenacity.

"Carbonara?" He requested and she rolled her eyes. 

"Always carbonara," she teased, kissing him on both cheeks before turning to say goodbye to Rosie.

"It was nice meeting you, Rosie." She kissed her on both cheeks as well.

“You too," she smiled politely. 

“Ciao," he waved as she walked away. He exhaled before turning to see Rosie looking at him knowingly. 

"What?" He asked, annoyed that she saw through him so easily. She was the only one who ever could.

"Nothing." She smiled. "I just didn't know that you spoke Italian,” she commented less than passively. 

He shot her a look for her cheek. 

"Only enough to order food and arrest a gang,” he played off her meddling. “Concetta and I are friends, Rosie. That’s all.” 

“Mm,” her eyes were sparkling with mischief. “And what did Miss Fisher have to say about that friendship?”

“She didn’t have a say in anything up until a few months ago.”

“And if I ask her that same question?” 

“She’d tell you that she still has no say over it, although that would be untrue,” he answered honestly, wanting to be clear where she stood in his life.

Rosie looked at him in surprise.

“You love her,” she realized out loud. 

Jack didn’t bother to hide it. 

“I mean,” she looked flustered, “I knew that you were partners and I assumed from all the rumors that you were...” 

“...partners,” Jack finished for her, unable to stand the awkward pause a moment longer than necessary. 

“Mm,” she skipped over it as quickly as she could, “But, you,” she looked at him with wonder again, “you really love her. Does she know?” She asked. 

“She does,” he confirmed. He’d never lay a claim to her, nor she to him, but that was unnecessary; they had been claimed, without discussion, or labels, or a plan for the future. They just...were. 

As if summoned by their conversation, Phryne chose that very moment to reappear at his side.

“Hello,” he greeted. 

“Aunt Prudence would like to see you inside,” she beckoned for him to follow her. 

“Good luck,” Rosie called after him.

“Thank you,” he said graciously before Phryne led him toward the house, barely looking over her shoulder.

“I thought that you might need a reprieve from all of the awkward chatting,” she revealed and he smiled at the secret kidnapping. 

“What’s awkward when you have the best woman at the party on your team.” He tossed the memory her way and she smiled to herself, charmed by it.

“And what if I was the one who needed the reprieve?” She admitted sheepishly and Jack frowned in confusion. “I’m an understanding woman, Jack but even I have my limits. Concetta fussing over you while you share those knowing looks of yours with your ex-wife?”

Jack stopped in his tracks, pulling her to a stop beside him. He felt like a cad. He’d walked straight into the party and bypassed her almost entirely, giving too much credit to her independent spirit. He would have been twisting inside out if she’d been chatting with all of her ex-lovers on a night like tonight.

“I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel neglected. To be honest, I walk into these things assuming that you are going to spend the entire evening chatting with a duke or something. You usually flit around parties like a bird who only lands when she needs a drink or a dance. It never dawned on me that you might…” 

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms, feeling ridiculous and he knew that he was making her feel worse rather than better. 

“You know what? Come with me.” He took her hand and led her into the house. He brought her straight to the same guest bedroom where she had once tried to disrobe him and locked the door behind him. 

“Jack, what are you doing?” She asked. 

“Making something perfectly clear,” he said before pulling her close and kissing her. She seemed surprised for a moment but sank into him with a softness that he recognized as relief. He continued on until he was sure that she was breathless before breaking the kiss.

“Do you feel that?” He asked and she nodded, her eyes still closed. “I have everything that I could ever want or need right here,” he promised her. “Not in the past with Rosie, or hiding from the world with Concetta. It’s here, with you.” He spoke with a straightforward sincerity that was rare between them. “So you have nothing to fear, Miss Fisher. My heart and mind were made up a long time ago.” 

She considered his words before frowning slightly.

“And what of your body, Inspector?” She inquired. “Does it need more persuading?”

He smiled and looked down at his shoes as he realized his mistake.

“Oh, the greedy bastard is never completely satisfied,” he tsked.

“Well, I can be very persuasive when I need to be," she lured him with promise as her fingers toyed with the buttons on his waistcoat. 

Jack felt himself sway towards her.

"What if I were to... " she leaned in close and whispered her erotic suggestions in extreme detail into his ear and Jack felt himself flush for the second time that evening. 

"I, I think that would definitely be a step in the right direction," he stammered as she lowered him onto the bed, a wicked smirk on her face. 


	3. Scaling Kilimanjaro

“What about you, Miss Fisher. You’ve traveled the globe. Surely you have an entertaining story or two to spin in front of the fire,” Jack prodded as she refilled his glass. “The wilds of Africa, scaling Kilimanjaro, perhaps?”

She shot him a glare for the teasing reminder of the trio's first case together as she picked up her own glass.

“Tell us the one about the zebra,” Jane requested enthusiastically. 

“Yes, the zebra,” Jack encouraged with a loose smile. He’d had just enough whiskey to be a bad influence and Jane giggled at his confident backing despite his ignorance of the story.

Phryne, however, had no interest in being outnumbered in her own parlor.

“No, no more stories. It’s long past a reasonable hour to still be up,” she reminded her ward. “You have school in the morning.” 

“I’m already ahead in my studies.”

“And we’re all very proud of you, I’m sure. Now, march,” Phryne nodded towards the stairs, unrelenting. 

Jane stood up with a heavy sigh.

“Goodnight,” Phryne called out facetiously as she watched Jane sulk out of the room. 

"Goodnight," she muttered in return.

“Goodnight Jane,” Jack smiled as she closed the doors of the parlor dramatically. 

“I should be heeding that same advice; I have school in the morning myself," he smiled as he checked his watch.

“Spoilsport,” she smirked as she took a sip of her drink. “And to think, I almost wasted the zebra story on you.” 

“A reason to return another time,” he agreed as he stood up. 

“Is that a promise?” She asked.

He nodded. 

“Good,” she smiled as she reached for his coat. “As entertaining as the zebra story can be, I have much more… enticing stories to share,” she taunted as she fixed his lapel. “If you’re so inclined.” 

“Is that so?” He smirked. 

“Mmhm.” 

“Well then, it’s a good thing that I have spent a lifetime cultivating a love of literature,” he grinned. The magnetic pull between them was too strong to resist and before they knew it, they were sharing a sweet kiss. 

Phryne was pleasantly surprised by the move and when she pulled away, Jack was looking fairly pleased himself. 

“Goodnight, Inspector.” She grinned as she opened the parlor door for him, not wanting to ruin what just happened with words. 

“Miss Fisher,” he tilted his hat and floated out the door. 


	4. Rumors

Phryne made her way up the front walk and stopped only when she reached the chalk outline of the body. 

“You’re late. They’ve already taken the body," he informed her.

“Did they take away the suspect and the knife as well?” 

Jack smirked behind her back at her uncanny ability to know precisely what crime had been committed simply by a blood stain.

She turned around expectantly, wanting her answer. 

“The wife still had the kitchen knife in hand. It appeared that she found lipstick on his collar while she was preparing dinner.”

“Tragic,” Phryne glanced at the blood stain. 

“It was all rather neat, as far as murder cases go,” he commented. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.” 

“Just be sure to see to your collar before you go,” she teased. “We can’t have Mrs. Robinson getting any ideas.” 

Jack paused for a beat too long, wondering how to reply to her statement, and Phryne fell silent, wondering if she had misunderstood. 

“I’m sorry, did I…?”

“No. No.” He shook his head. “You’re just the first person I’m about to reveal this to and I hadn’t expected the opportunity to arise so soon.” He took a deep breath. “My wife and I began divorce proceedings this morning.”

“Oh,” she looked down to hide her surprise, “I’m sorry.” 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d appreciate it if we kept this between us.”

“Of course,” she agreed quickly. “You know, I’m not sure if you’re the type of man who prefers or hates company when things like this happen, but I have it on good authority that Mr. Butler was roasting a chicken when I left the house this morning and I can be extremely distracting when needed.”

“I’ve no doubt.” He glanced over at her warily, but the playful light in his eyes didn’t get past her and she grinned at his pretense. 

God, she was clever.

“The offer stands, now or later,” she doubled down on her hospitality as she headed back towards the front door.

“I’ll remember that. Thank you," he called after her. 

OOOOO

“Jack.” 

When she had invited him over, she’d never expected him to take up her offer at all, let alone looking like he did at the moment. He was standing on her doorstep with a feral look in his eye that declared a deeper level of rage simmering just under the surface. He didn’t say a word in greeting but the energy radiating off of him was as captivating as a dangerous summer storm and she found herself tingling in his wake. 

She instinctively stepped back, giving him room to enter the house and he brushed past her, looking distracted by the fact that the house was dark. 

“Are we alone?” He asked.

“For now.” She shut the door. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen this house quiet before.” He looked perplexed by it. 

“Is everything alright, Jack?” She asked warily, already suspecting the answer. 

“No, I’m afraid it’s not,” he admitted. 

“Then come in and sit down,” she directed him towards the parlor. 

“I can't.”

She paused and lowered her arms.

“You can't come in?” 

“Sit. If I sit, I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Well then we'd better stand,” she agreed as she moved him to the parlor. She let him pace in front of the cold fireplace as she turned on a few lamps to light the room.

“Alright, out with it. What’s going on?” She asked bluntly. 

He looked frustrated by his own hesitation to speak. 

“Jack,” she encouraged more softly, trying a different tactic. 

“As you know, my wife is filing for divorce,” he stated quietly. “I've just seen the paperwork and it would appear that you are being cited as the reason." 

“Me?” She couldn't begin to understand what she had to do with it.

“Given your publicized reputation with men, people around the precinct have been assuming that you and I are… having a romantic relationship along with our working one. I try to stop it as I hear it but you know how the rumor mill churns and…” 

“I understand, Jack. What does this have to do with your divorce?”

"We've been separated for some time but Rosie, that's my wife, has been led to believe that she finally has her reason to submit the paperwork.”

“She's been waiting for you to be unfaithful,” Phryne realized. She collapsed onto the sofa with a sharp exhale. “Who in their right mind could ever think that you would…” She caught herself short, realizing it was none of her business. 

“Apparently, several people,” he replied darkly.

She felt a surge of offended loyalty on his behalf.

"I wanted to warn you. My father-in-law happens to be the Deputy Commissioner and he has every intention of making this happen quickly and quietly but people are going to talk, even more than they already are and I didn't want you to be caught off-guard."

Phryne sat there looking at this man that she didn't recognize and she realized, not for the first time, that he was a constant surprise.

She stood up and made her way over to the mantle, stopping his pacing. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him square in the eye, showing him that she had his best interest at heart and wrapped him in a hug. 

He looked positively stricken by the action, freezing in confusion before slowly adjusting to her arms around him but never fully reciprocating the gesture.

"I'm so sorry, Jack," she murmured before releasing him.

“Why are you apologizing? I should be apologizing to you."

She waved him off.

“I’m a little honored, to be honest. I've never been the cause of a divorce before.” She smiled proudly. “And while I would never presume to be considered powerful enough to break Jack Robinson's vows, I am more than happy to pretend to be if it's helpful.”

He visibly relaxed, her words relieving some of the tension he was holding onto so tightly.

“And if you ever want to make an honest woman out of your wife, well, my door is always open," she added slyly with a wiggle of her eyebrows and he laughed despite himself at the ludicrously inappropriate offer.

“I'll keep that in mind.” His eyes smiled, looking grateful for the joke, though he would never admit it.

“For now, can I get you anything useful? A drink, a powder, the number of my solicitor, perhaps?” She offered her services to the remains of the man in front of her.

“Thank you, but no. I think I'd better go see to my own life now. I have quite a lot of work ahead. I’m sure we’ll be in touch,” he sighed before heading into the foyer.

“Take care of yourself, Inspector.” She opened the door for him. 

“You as well, Miss Fisher. You as well.” 

And just like that, he was gone.

OOOOO 

Jack was shaking as he walked up the steps to his front door. He flexed his hands out as he tried to ease the muscles before reaching for his key and unlocking the door.

He stepped inside the dark house and didn't bother turning on the light. He tossed his key onto the telephone table and pulled off his coat as he walked back to his bedroom. He dumped it on the chair that served as a second shelf when he was too tired to cope with his own fastidiousness and he fell onto the bed.

As he stared at his ceiling, he could still smell her French perfume lingering on his suit coat. He closed his eyes and felt her arms holding him tightly and something in his heart gave a little as he recalled how determined she had looked to stand up for him. Phryne Fisher, he was quickly learning, was a fierce defender of the weak. He could imagine that she had been required to learn that skill early in her life with a little sister to protect but now with Dot and Jane in her care, the impulse seemed to be flaring back to life. Seeing that care turned on him was discombobulating to say the least. He'd basically been on his own since 1915. He'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone consider your well-being before their own.

The telephone rang shrilly, stirring him from his thoughts but not his position. He didn't bother answering for a few moments but when they didn't give up, he groaned and stood up again. 

"Robinson," he growled in frustration. 

"Jack?" Phryne's quiet voice traveled through the phone like a jolt.

"Miss Fisher?" He didn't bother to hide his confusion. He'd only left her 10 minutes previously and on top of that, had never given her this number.

"I know that it's late but I wanted to say one more thing," she explained. "I realized after you left that all of my offers to help you might actually be things that make the situation worse for you. If you need me to step aside until this all blows over, I'd...I'd understand."

It might have been the most selfless thing anyone had ever offered him. He knew how much she loved this work, new to it though she was, and she was bloody great at it thus far. If he was forced to sit on the sidelines for the next few months, it would drive him mad and here she was, offering to stop her own business simply for his benefit.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Miss Fisher," he replied. "But thank you all the same."

There was a pause on her end.

"And you're certain you don't want to lean into this story?" She offered, a teasing smile lilting her voice solely for his benefit.

He pulled the phone away in case he couldn’t fight the absurd scoff that wanted to leave his chest at her quick turn. 

"I'm sure that we can manage something down the middle, don’t you think?" He countered. 

"I suppose so, although it is a lot less fun," she commented, playing her role.

"Goodnight, Miss Fisher," he rolled his eyes, dismissing her from duty.

"Goodnight, Jack. Sleep well."

He hung up the telephone receiver and stared at it before shaking his head and heading back to his room.


	5. Senses

She lay atop him, resting her head on his chest, her skin soft and slick against his own. 

His hand moved lazily across her back, close enough to secure her, should she need it, but mostly just exploring. 

Jack had considered himself familiar with her body. He had felt it under his hands, seen almost all of it in one way or another, and yet, feeling it against him as intimately as this, was life-changing. They were both completely vulnerable and yet completely at ease. He couldn't recall ever feeling that way with anyone else in his life. 

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, knowing that it was a risk but unable to convey his thoughts any other way. 

"I love you too," she mumbled casually, as if it were a foregone conclusion, as if they had said it a thousand times before. Maybe they had. 

He felt her breathing slow and knew that she was almost asleep. He left his exploration of her back long enough to pull the blankets over them and Phryne clung tighter to his torso in his absence. 

He let his eyes close and focused on her slow, even breaths, matched them to his own, wanting to be connected with her like this even as they slept.


	6. The Only Explanation

“Are you frightened of me?” He asked. 

“No,” she responded honestly, the answer surprising her almost more than him. She looked at him curiously, as if he held the explanation for her unexpected reaction.

He did, of course, but he’d never say it out loud.


	7. Commitment

Phryne watched from the window as Jack parked his car. She jumped up to greet him at the door, knowing that he would see the Hispano parked in the street and expect her. The door opened and revealed the man she had been waiting for rather impatiently. 

“Hello, Jack,” she smiled as he stepped into the house. 

“Miss Fisher,” he greeted her with a quick kiss. “What brings you this far north of the Yarra?”

“I wanted to see you,” she explained as he took off his hat and trench coat. “It’s been a few days and I suppose I was getting jealous of how much time you were spending with our young Mr. Collins.” 

“Are you complaining about the lack of crimes in my jurisdiction, Miss Fisher?” He tilted his head, the teasing light in his eyes very nearly made her forget why she was investigating him in the first place.

“For certain reasons, perhaps.” She couldn’t stop her hands from reaching out and brushing down the shoulders of his suit coat. It had been over a week since she had had her hands on him and the pull towards his body, while not necessarily sexual, was still immense. 

“Well then,” he paused dramatically, “you'll be pleased to know that I just came from the morgue. Suspicious circumstances, results to follow.”

“Oh, I have missed you.” She leaned in to kiss him once more. She briefly felt a lump beneath her hand and she shifted her hand over his suit coat pocket to determine what it was but Jack stepped out of her embrace before she could accomplish the task. 

“Why don't I wash up and then we can go to dinner?” He offered quickly, pulling her hands off of him under the pretense of holding them in his own. 

Phryne tilted her head. There was something in his pocket that he didn’t want her to notice. 

“I’ll be quick,” he promised as he walked past her, not waiting for her response. 

She listened to his footsteps go down the hall before turning around towards the sound. A dresser drawer slid open and closed again and then he went into the bathroom and shut the door. 

Once the coast was clear, she snuck into his room and searched his jacket. The lump was gone.

She went to the dresser and pulled open a drawer as silently as she could and pressed her hands down on top of all the carefully folded shirts, but didn’t find anything. She frowned as the rest of the dresser came up empty.

And then she remembered his background in intelligence and slid the shirt drawer open once more. She tapped the back quietly. False. 

She lifted it carefully and reached in.

Jackpot.

She pulled it back and her heart stopped and vision tunneled as she realized what he had hidden away. 

She was holding a ring box. 

The mark was from a local jeweler, very refined, one that she had used herself on several occasions. 

Jack wouldn’t…

He couldn’t possibly expect…

She stared at the bathroom door, wanting answers. 

He’d never given her any indication that this was in his plans. In fact, she’d never heard him mention marriage at all. Up until now, she thought that he seemed content with the arrangements they’d settled on by habit, if not by conversation. 

She herself had made it perfectly clear how she felt on the subject, which, she had to acknowledge, had happened before they’d fallen in love and built a wonderful life together. She couldn’t fault him for thinking that her opinions may have changed. He was the exception to so many of her rules. 

Unable to resist the temptation, she opened the box and lost her breath. 

Inside was a gorgeous, round-cut aquamarine ring. The stone was almost clear, but tinted a beautiful seafoam green. It was set in a white gold filigree band. The ring wasn’t flashy by any means but Phryne knew it must have cost him at least a few weeks’ salary to purchase. Despite the consequences, she found herself curious about how it would feel on her finger. 

With a side glance to the bathroom door, she slipped the ring out of the box and tried it on her left hand. It fit perfectly. It might as well have been custom-designed for her. Maybe it had been. 

God damn it, Jack, she fumed at his perfect taste.

“Lady detective.” The title was more of a sigh than a scold as he threw his clothes in the hamper. 

She jumped and immediately hid her hand behind her back, as if she could hide the evidence. 

“Jack, I…” 

What could she say? She was standing in his bedroom, wearing a ring that she wasn’t even meant to know about yet on a finger that had extreme significance.

“No alibi?” He asked. “There is a first time for everything,” he decided as he took her hand out from hiding to examine how it looked on her finger. “It fits?”

“It's perfect,” she acknowledged and she could feel his eyes reading her expression. 

“I saw it in the shop window and I couldn’t walk past it. It felt like something that already belonged to you.” He took a step back. “I never expected to see it on that hand though,” he confessed, keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself. 

She turned red and removed the ring from her finger. 

“You shouldn’t be buying me jewelry at all.” Her tone conveyed how little she approved of him spending his hard-earned money on jewelry when she had so much of it already.

“Consider it my contribution towards a year's worth of room and board then,” he offered. 

She frowned as his words struck a chord inside her. 

It had been a year.

They had known each other for years before he had given in to her charms so an annual anniversary hadn’t even occurred to her. Her face must have betrayed her epiphany because Jack was smiling when she looked at him again. 

“See,” he shook his finger at her, “I knew that if I kept quiet, I stood a chance of surprising you. I was less than an hour away from getting away with it.”

“Getting away with what, precisely?"

“Dinner at the very least," he suggested.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, feeling terrible.

“It’s not important.” He pulled her into his arms to kiss her temple. 

“It is,” she pouted. "I’ve never had an anniversary before. You could have shown me what I was missing.”

Jack looked slyly at the clock, knowing that he was being manipulated but in no mood to resist.

“Well, I think there’s still time to pull something together. Don’t you?” 

“Can that something include something lethal from my closet?” She countered. 

“Of course. What would a dinner with you be if I could concentrate through it?” Jack rolled his eyes as she stepped out of his arms and headed for the door. “Phryne?”

She paused. 

“You forgot something.” He tossed the ring box to her unexpectedly. 

The ring, still pressed into her right palm, gave her an idea. She held out her hand and opened it, offering it to Jack. 

He took a few steps to close the distance between them and picked it up from her palm. 

She flipped her hand over, wanting him to be the one to put it on properly. 

He took in her face, either to watch for a reaction or to catalog a memory, she couldn’t be sure, before slowly slipping the ring onto her right ring finger.

Phryne never took her eyes off of his sure hands and the gentle way they bestowed her gift. If she ever did change her mind on marriage, she couldn’t do better than Jack Robinson. 

She pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

He nodded, maintaining his stoic silence. 

She stared at him for a long while before he finally spoke. 

“You’d better go or you’ll run out of time to get ready,” he warned as he took a step back and cleared his throat. 

“Maybe you’ll just have to take me in whatever state you find me in when you arrive,” she suggested, not wanting to go. 

"Oh, I'll take you alright," he threatened under his breath.

She couldn't fight the sinful smile that bloomed across her face. She took her time leaving, giving him ample time to follow through, but he let her go, willing to build up a little suspense. 

She placed her hand on the front door, but couldn’t bring herself to turn the handle. She gave a look back over her shoulder where he stood leaning in his bedroom doorway, arms folded.

Her heart stuttered in her chest at the silhouette. 

They had spent so many nights over dinner and drinks, wanting more, but not knowing how to get there together. Now that they had figured it out, the last thing she wanted to do was waste any more time.

“Phryne?” Jack’s curious voice met her when she still hadn’t left. 

She turned around and strode towards him. 

“What are you…?” 

He didn’t have time to finish as she kissed him with everything she had. 

“I don’t want dinner,” she rasped against his lips as she pushed him backwards. 

“No?” He chuckled, coming to that conclusion on his own. His knees hit the bed and he sat down out of momentum.

“Mm-mm. We’ve had enough dinners to last a lifetime. Now I want everything I didn’t get when you stood at the foot of my staircase, looking like this,” she climbed over top of him, running her fingers through his hair. “I’ve walked away from that view too many times. I won’t do it again.” 

"I won’t make you," he promised with a sly grin.

OOOOO

When Phryne awoke, Jack was sitting up, reading the paper in bed beside her.

“Good morning,” he greeted her. 

He had a cup of coffee beside him and it smelled heavenly. 

She slipped her hand over his left arm and under his right, snaking between his body and the paper to steal the cup. 

He watched in amazement as she brazenly looped the cup back through the same hole from whence she came without spilling a drop on his lap.

She took a long victorious sip before offering the mug back to him. 

"Keep it," he offered generously. 

She propped herself up on her pillow beside him and took another sip.

Jack went back to reading the paper and Phryne got lost in thought. 

"Jack?" She asked for his attention.

"Hmm?" 

"May I ask you something personal?"

He set down the paper warily. He knew the difference between her serious and teasing voices and he gave her his full attention. 

"Did you like being married?"

Jack sighed as he considered her question.

"That is an impossible question to answer. Did you like the last 20 years of your life?" He questioned rhetorically. "I don't regret it,” he replied. “If the war hadn't come so quickly into it, I might have a better answer. In my experience, marriage was… very different from what you and I have now. There is a tangible change in knowing that whatever happens, you're in it together. You stop thinking about what the best decision is for yourself and start thinking about the best decision for the team. Where there used to be separate opinions, there now has to be compromise. Our house, our money, our family…"

“Our coffee?” She interrupted as she looked down at the cup in her hands. 

He smiled. 

“I like having some autonomy with you. I don’t need to get involved in your business endeavors and I’m not neglecting my duties when I can’t come home because I’m lost in a case. I know that when you miss me, you’ll start committing some light crimes to get my attention.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She hid her smile behind a sip of coffee.

“In the last 24 hours alone, I could charge you with breaking and entering, trespass, burglary if we add that ring on your finger to the list of charges...” 

“I had a key!” She set the mug aside in protest. “And there was no intention to take the ring out of your possession. You may charge me with trespassing at the most. And I didn't hear you complaining when you became an accomplice last night: disturbing the peace, destruction of property, false imprisonment, assault …” 

“I believe I was fulfilling a request.” He arched his eyebrow. “And in my own defense," he moved closer, "I had no idea that you could moan like that.” 

“Neither did I,” she confessed as he began nuzzling at her neck. 

"I liked it," he pressed a filthy grin against her jaw.

"You should have been on the other side," she grinned. 

"Maybe next time I will be."

Her stunned reaction made him chuckle and he took the opportunity to roll her underneath him. He hovered above her, smiling down at her apparent desire to turn the tables. 

"God, I love you," she murmured, taking in the man so happily perched above her. There was a time when even just thinking the words had terrified her to no end. Now, they fell helplessly from her lips without a second thought. “I don’t care how, or why, or what it’s called, but I never want to lose you.” She needed him to know it.

“You have me, love,” he promised with a smile. “You have me.”


	8. Seaside serenade

It was still dark when Phryne and Jack came dripping up the back walk, leaving a trail of salt water behind them. The french perfume that Phryne had worn had now been replaced by the smell of the sea and her outfit, while salvageable, would not be worn again any time soon. She wondered if Jack’s many layers of fabric were making it worse or better for him as his damp soles squeaked with each step beside her. 

She stopped suddenly as she came upon Jane and Kip sitting on a bench along the side of the kitchen. She grabbed Jack by his elbow and yanked him back behind the trees, earning her a glare for the manhandling before he realized why she'd pulled him into the dark shadows in the first place. 

Kip was bravely holding Jane's hand and they were murmuring quietly, lost in conversation. It wasn’t long before Jane leaned in close and kissed the boy goodnight before slipping quietly back into the house. 

Phryne and Jack shared a knowing look, both thinking about their own young loves. Phryne couldn’t help but let her eyes trail down to his mouth, recalling Jack's own persuasive kissing skills. She wondered if he was always such a determined kisser or if extenuating circumstances had played a larger role in his ability to turn her head.

Jack's face told her that he was seriously tempted to figure out the answer to that question himself when the kitchen door closed again, stealing his attention as Kip snuck back inside.

"It would appear that we're not the only ones sneaking around before dawn," she whispered.

"No, but we're experienced enough to not get caught doing it," his low voice rumbled. 

"How experienced?" She asked with interest, wondering what sort of trouble he'd gotten himself into as a young man.

Jack's smirk was confident and bordering on smug as he turned to analyzing the quiet house with a strategic eye.

“You’re a detective, Miss Fisher. Why don’t you use your interrogation techniques to find out?” He challenged before tip-toeing out of the brush. 

Phryne watched on in stunned amazement as he silently made his way up the lattice work on the side of the house and pried open his bedroom window before slipping nimbly inside, no one any the wiser to his presence.

She grinned at his unusually rebellious behavior before realizing that he never closed the window after himself. 

Suddenly, the impact of his words and actions slammed into her as she realized what she'd just been offered. 

“Jack Robinson,” she smiled to herself as she crept out from behind the trees, “I do believe the seaside brings out the best in you.”


	9. The Rules Are The First To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just slinging these at you as I have time to scroll through them. Sorry if it's sporadic. lol. It makes a perfect break between tasks.

She’s been in many beds in her lifetime.

She’s never once overstayed her welcome. Or let a man overstay his. 

So she knows that she should, at the very least, pretend to get up, and give him the chance to protest her leaving.

But she's discovered that the curve of his shoulder is a perfect match to her own cheek as his rough fingers strum the pale skin of her forearm resting on his chest. And so she lets herself imagine the scene as it should be: getting dressed, fixing herself up in his dresser mirror as she gives an excuse appropriately tailored to his personality. (For him, something sensible, like seeing Jane off to school in the morning or having a previously booked appointment with her solicitor.)

He, being the gentleman that she knows him to be, would never dream of keeping her longer than she wanted to stay. He would feign understanding and accept her kiss goodbye without ever leaving his place in bed. 

And maybe that's why all she can manage is a groggy warning. 

"If you keep that up, I'm going to fall asleep right here on top of you." 

She feels his smile bloom above her, even with her eyes closed.

But he doesn't speak. 

And he doesn’t stop. 

So she keeps her promise. 


	10. Small surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: spiders

She found him in his sunny kitchen, chopping vegetables and whisking eggs. She placed a kiss to his shoulder, not wanting to disrupt him but he smiled at the attention all the same.

"Good morning," she settled in behind him to watch, pressing her chest to his back and resting her chin on his shoulder. 

"Good morning."

“Just so you know, I find this version of you extremely attractive,” she informed him as she took the opportunity to steal a mushroom from his vegetable pile. 

He rolled his eyes and handed her a plate of sliced bread. 

“Would you mind?” He inquired, gesturing towards the toaster.

“You should know by now, Inspector, that there isn’t anything I can’t do,” she bragged as she took the plate with her usual amount of bravado.

He continued making his eggs and didn’t think to look up again until he heard a small crash behind him. He turned around to find Phryne on top of the counter, arms folded around her knees, staring at the window above the sink. She pointed silently at the reason for her panic, although rather unnecessarily. Only one thing in the world could make her jump like that. 

“Intruder?" Jack questioned as he turned off the stove and made his way over to the window where a garden spider was climbing up the outside of the window. Jack tapped the glass lightly and the creature fell from view. 

"I'm afraid that I'll never understand how bullets seem to bore you and yet spiders undo you," he confessed.

"That's because you've never woken up to them crawling in your hair," she shuddered. 

Jack casually tested the window pane, making sure it was fully closed for her benefit and hers alone. He purposefully didn't turn around at the rare glimpse into her history; he wasn't about to spook her again. He decided to wash his hands as well to buy time.

"Collingwood gave you many life skills, Miss Fisher. It's only fair that it gave you one or two weaknesses as well. Keeps you from running away with the competition entirely," he teased over his shoulder. 

She still hadn't moved from her defensive position.

"What, no fears of your own, Jack?" 

He considered her question as he reached for the towel between them, using it as an excuse to take a step closer to her. 

"In my experience," he began as he dried his hands, "I've found it is often the small, everyday things that can do the most harm: like a pre-dawn telephone call, or a trip to the circus," he pointed out. "Therefore, I tend to treat everything with an equal amount of suspicion." He tossed the towel aside and leaned back on his elbows beside her. 

"My careful man," she praised.

He let his head fall back to see her face and she played with the hair on the back of his head as she looked down lovingly at him. 

"Not always, Miss Fisher," he whispered before sliding his arms up around her torso and tugging down, pulling her across his lap in a flash. She squealed but wrapped her arms around his neck as he attempted to kiss her through her laughter.


	11. Overtime

Phryne opened her eyes and smiled.

The sunlight was filtering in through Jack’s bedroom curtains, telling her that he was long gone to work, but a bouquet of his carefully cut roses were sitting rather casually in a glass of water that he had hastily procured from his kitchen and suddenly, she couldn’t fight the feeling threatening to burst from her chest. 

She had successfully bedded Jack Robinson. 

In his own bed.

After he had willingly and happily dragged her to it last night. 

And judging by the gift he’d left her, he had absolutely no regrets about it.

She buried her face in his pillow, letting out the barely contained squeal of joy.

“Everything alright, Miss Fisher?” His dry, teasing voice made her freeze.

She lifted her head to see him leaning in the doorway, in a robe, holding a cup of tea in his hand. 

“Never better,” she replied far too casually for what he had just witnessed. She sat up and pulled the sheet around her breasts. “I, I thought you had gone to work,” she explained. 

“Mm," he accepted the excuse without comment before taking a sip of his tea. 

“Why aren’t you at work exactly?” She asked, her high pitch giving her away. 

“It’s my day off,” he shrugged.

“You don’t take days off,” she sat up, her curiosity piqued. “Jack Robinson, are you shirking your duties for me?” She grinned. 

“Night shift," he corrected with the gravitas of a superior officer. "You have,” he glanced at the clock on the bedside table, “ten hours of my undivided attention.” 

“Then you’d better get undressed,” she purred as she reached for him, the sheet falling forgotten around her waist. She barely heard the clink of the teacup hitting the dresser before his robe fell to the floor. 

Jack was a man who didn't need to be told twice. 


	12. Traveling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm landlocked and quarantined. It's time to post about traveling.

“I want to take you traveling again,” Phryne whined as she drunkenly clung to his elbow after a long night at the Stanley estate. “We could go on holiday!” She smiled gleefully at her own idea. “Where do you want to go?”

“Mm, where do you recommend?” He asked, eager to watch the light dance in her eyes as she fantasized about a trip they’d probably never get to achieve. He didn’t care where they went, so long as she was beside him. 

“We could go to America and meet the cowboys,” she offered with excitement. “But if we meet Buffalo Bill, I’m keeping my badge. I earned it,” she demanded.

“I wouldn’t dream of taking it back,” Jack replied seriously. 

“Ooh, we could go to France! You could cycle for a few days and I could spend some time catching up with Mademoiselle Chanel,” she posed fashionably on the front step and nearly tripped over the hem of her own dress. 

“I’ve seen enough of France, thank you,” he said as he held her up long enough to get to the door.

“What about Singapore? Or Hong Kong?”

“It gives me fits just imagining the trouble you could get into in either of those cities,” Jack said honestly as she jammed her key into the door. 

“Well then, America will have to suffice.” She smiled. “I’ll buy you a cowboy hat to replace your fedora..." she sang enticingly as she walked into the dark foyer. 

“You’d buy me a horse if it suited your mood.” He followed her inside and turned on a light.

“Jack, don’t be ridiculous. We’d never get a horse in the plane. We would have to rent him. Unless we took a ship!” She hit his chest with both of her palms as her eyes lit up again. “How do you feel about sailing to America?” 

He chuckled at her determination. 

“I don’t think the Commissioner would give me time off to sail the world again, with or without a horse.” 

“That’s because I’ve never been the one to ask him.” She looked slightly offended that he doubted her charms. “Honestly, Jack. It’s like you’ve never met me sometimes," she purred as her hands made their way up and over his body until she was pressed against him. 

"Then why don't you start your travels by taking me upstairs and you can re-introduce yourself?" He suggested.

She smiled and glanced toward the stairs.

"I'm going to need a horse." 

It was her only warning before spinning around and jumping onto his back. He barely had time to catch her. 

"I'm going to have to have a word with your aunt's staff about over-serving you," he groaned as he began his trek up the steps. 

"Aunt P has tried," she beamed with pride. "They love me more than they fear her. I keep things interesting," she bragged. 

"You certainly do at that," he agreed. 


	13. Jack Robinson: Secret Hedonist

He found her in his parlor, drinking a cup of tea by the firelight with a knitted blanket around her shoulders. He leaned against the doorway to watch her but she looked up before he could get the chance to observe her in action.

“What are you doing up?” She asked in concern. 

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied.

“I couldn’t sleep. Did I wake you?” 

He shrugged and she frowned sheepishly. 

“I'm sorry.” 

He waved off her concern as he stood up straight again.

"Would you like some company?" 

She smiled at the kind offer as she took in his haggard appearance.

"You had a long day. You should go back to bed," she instructed. 

"No point," he said as he made his way into the room. "If you’re out here, I won't be able to sleep anyway." 

She smiled, charmed by his confession.

“Then come lay down here where you can keep an eye on me,” she set her cup aside and reached out for him.

He did just that, curling up in the fetal position and setting his head down on her thigh.

She took the blanket from around her shoulders and placed it over top of him. 

“Comfortable?” She asked.

He nodded and she rubbed his shoulder in response. It reminded him of what he really wanted from her. 

“Do that thing with your fingers,” he requested.

“Excuse me?” She pulled him back by the shoulder to see his face. 

“You know, that thing that you like to do, with my hair,” he explained, looking up at her hopefully. 

“Oh, that,” she nodded in understanding as she rolled him back onto his side. “I do like it," she agreed, combing her fingers through his hair gently. "But then again, I like everything about touching you," she revealed.

Jack didn't comment, as if she would realize her mistake and take it all back if he acknowledged that it had been said. 

"How does that feel? Good?" She asked, wanting to do it the way that he wanted. 

"Mm," he hummed. "Like all of my previous fantasies of what would happen if we ever spent the night together were focused on the wrong things," he confessed. 

She chuckled and ran her finger along the rim of his ear.

"I'll make a hedonist out of you yet, Jack Robinson," she claimed before continuing her work. 


	14. Domestic Experiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to be a series of short stories where Phrack was in a relationship before they were in a relationship but I only ever got two stories out of it, so I sewed them together like a Frankenshot and here we are.

Jack had come to her parlor barely able to stand. He’d been working hard on his latest case and while he claimed that he needed an outside opinion to see things clearly, she'd seen straight away that what he really needed was a break. She’d been delighted to be the one that he'd consulted for advice but she'd had no intention of giving it. 

She sat him by the roaring fire, filled his glass, and listened with interest to the details of his case. In the time that it had taken her to say “Let me think for a bit,” he had closed his eyes and was now fast asleep in her chair. 

She wasn’t sure how best to proceed, normally men were enthralled with her entertaining skills, but she tiptoed out of the parlor long enough to summon Mr. Butler to prepare the guest room on the off-chance that she could convince him to stay. Maybe if he were exhausted enough, she could coax him up there without a fight. 

"Jack," Phryne shook him by his bicep gently, not wanting to startle him. He stirred a little in his chair and she smiled as he tried to turn onto his side away from her like a child. 

"Mm," he barely stirred, “I’ll join you in a bit, love. Don’t wait up.”

Phryne's hand dropped immediately at his misplaced affection but he was already snoring again, none the wiser of his mistake.

She stared at him, frozen in place as an onslaught of thoughts ran through her head. Was he thinking of his ex-wife? Or worse, was someone else in the picture now that his divorce had cleared? Phryne had never thought to ask. 

The look in his eyes when she’d teased him at Guy’s party had given her hope that if she gave him time to heal, something might move forward but nothing quite as electric had happened since. Maybe she had missed her opportunity. 

Mr. Butler arrived in the parlor, stopping her mental freefall in its place.

“The guest room is set, miss,” he announced. 

“Thank you, Mr. Butler. I can manage the rest,” she dismissed him for the night as she stared at Jack once more. 

“Jack,” she shook him a bit harder. “Jack, it’s Phryne, wake up.” 

This got him to stir fully awake and he opened his eyes. He looked around, confused by his unfamiliar surroundings. 

“You fell asleep in my parlor,” she reminded him with a small smile. “Come upstairs. Mr. Butler has made up the guest bedroom for you.” 

“That’s not necessary,” he declined the offer, even as he wiped sleep from his eyes. 

“I’m not sending you home like this.” She started for the foot of the stairs, refusing anything else but his acceptance.

He looked reluctant but with one more gesture of her head towards a warm bed, he gave in and made his way up the steps.

“Everything you need should be laid out for you. Bathroom is just there,” she gestured down the hall. “You can hang your clothes on the hook in there and Mr. Butler will have them ready for you in the morning.”

Jack opened his mouth to object.

“If you don’t, he’ll just come into your room and get them himself,” she cut him off. “He’ll also bring you breakfast and the paper when you’re ready for it. I’ll be next door if you need anything but feel free to help yourself to anything you'd like."

“This is more than enough," he assured her.

“If you haven't realized it yet, Inspector," she began undoing his crooked tie for him, "we are quite fond of you here at Wardlow. So no matter how many parlors you may have elsewhere, you will always be considered a member of this household and treated accordingly. Is that understood?"

He stood there staring at her, his collar undone, tie now in his hands, exhausted beyond belief, and she smiled at his complete lack of composure. She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Sleep well, Jack," she spun him around by his shoulders and sent him into his room. 

OOOOO

Jack awoke at 6 am to a freshly laundered suit and a knock on the door.

"Breakfast, sir?" Mr. Butler offered, as he hung up his suit behind a dressing shade.

Phryne's words from the night before reminded him that the man wanted to be of service and that Jack should just let him do his job, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

"Yes, Mr. Butler. I'll be down in a moment." 

Mr. Butler was gone as fast and as silently as he arrived. 

As he got ready for the day, Jack could see how easy it would be to become accustomed to such efficient service, especially by someone as intuitive as Mr. Butler. He had been greeted by fresh clothes, fluffy towels, and all the toiletry items he could ever need laid out on the dresser, including his very brand of pomade. All of which must have been purchased ahead of time and stored on the off-chance that someone may need them someday. 

No wonder Phryne beat him to crime scenes.

Once satisfied with his state in the mirror, Jack exited the bedroom, nearly colliding with a half-asleep Jane.

"Are you finished with the bathroom, Inspector?" She asked nonplussed, as if she ran into him standing in the hall every morning. 

"Er, yes," he moved out of her way so that she could continue her trudge unobstructed.

"Good morning, Inspector." Dot greeted him as the bathroom door closed beside him. 

"Morning, Miss Williams."

"Don't mind Jane. She is as friendly as Miss Fisher in the morning," she smiled cheerfully.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"No. I was just on my way down."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. 

Following her lead, Jack sat down at the dining room table and began helping himself to the buffet of toast and jams in front of him. 

"Coffee or tea, Inspector?" Dot asked. 

"Tea, thank you." 

She poured each of them a cup.

Jane joined them a few minutes later, fresh braids in her hair, and silently tucked into her own breakfast.

Jack had just finished the last of his meal when Phryne emerged looking half-asleep, pale pink pajama bottoms sticking out underneath her robe. He tried not to look surprised by her level of informality, but there was something enthralling about seeing her without her war paint and armor. She looked… soft.

"What are you doing up this early?" Jane asked with a confused frown and Jack made sure not to show his interest in her answer.

"I wanted to see you off before your big exam." She kissed the top of her ward's head. "And deliver this," she set the morning paper down in front of Jack. His case was splashed across the front page with a dramatic flair, the level of which made him roll his eyes but he picked it up to read the details all the same.

"It's getting worse. You really should revisit the curator. I am happy to go for you if you're too busy."

"I'll thank you to keep yourself out of it," he tossed the folded newspaper down in front of her once he had finished the article. 

Jane fought a snicker behind her slice of toast.

"This would all be much faster with my help," she maintained, clearly disagreeing with them.

"Perhaps, but I need a judge who will sign my warrants so stay out of it or we will both be out of work. And then who would you pester?"

"I'd figure something out. I am extremely clever. And you're wasting your precious time arguing," her pale lips warned from behind her teacup.

He glanced down at his watch, knowing she was right. It was a small victory, but she claimed it, smiling to herself as he stood up quickly.

"Thank you for the spare bed and the meal," he said sincerely. 

"Happy to do our civic duty,” she saluted. 

"And good luck on your exam, Jane,” he wished her well.

"Thank you," she replied. 

He found his coat in the hall and was halfway through putting it on when Phryne called out to him.

"Jack, wait." 

"Yes?" He looked up expectantly.

She opened the hall drawer and pulled out a spare key.

“I meant what I said last night,” she handed him the key. “Help yourself to anything at any time.” 

“I appreciate the offer but...” 

“Don't appreciate it, use it,” she urged, placing the key in his palm for him. 

He gave her a look that protested taking advantage of her kindness but he kept his mouth shut. 

Phryne smiled at the acceptance before her face changed. 

“Jack, that’s it,” she grabbed his arm. “The curator’s keys.” 

Jack followed her line of thinking all the way to its natural conclusion, all of the pieces falling into place so neatly, he couldn’t believe that he'd missed it. 

"For the record?" He leaned in closer. "This is why your parlor is the only one that I visit." He grinned as he grabbed his hat from the peg above her head and rushed out the door. 

OOOOO

By supper, Jack had his case in hand, paperwork done, and most alarmingly, the press praising his work. He was on a roll that was entirely her doing and he owed her a thank you. A phone call to Wardlow was answered politely by Mr. Butler before being handed over to the woman of the house. 

“Jack! I heard the good news. Congratulations on solving your case,” she greeted him. 

“I should be thanking you, both for the assistance and last night’s hospitality. Could I repay you with dinner tonight?”

There was a long pause before he heard a questioning intake of breath. 

“What kind of dinner?” 

She was clearly intrigued by his offer, even if she didn't know what to make of it.

“I thought we might eat food,” he volleyed back.

“Oh, well, then yes. I’m available. Where? When?”

“Lady’s choice,” he allowed generously. 

“There is one place that I’ve always wanted to go,” she said coyly.

“And where is that?”

“I’d love to visit your house." 

She dropped the idea casually but Jack knew better. She was dying to know where and how he lived. He couldn't really blame her. They'd known each other for nearly a year and he'd yet to have her over.

“If it’s too much trouble…” she added, acknowledging his silence.

“Not at all,” he replied quickly, “but of all the places to eat in Melbourne, my kitchen would not have made the list.”

“Well it’s at the top of mine," she countered stubbornly.

“Fair enough. The chef was planning a rather casual meal of roasted potatoes and kielbasa tonight but I'm sure we can switch the menu."

“That’s not necessary, besides a quiet night in sounds lovely," she waved off his concern. "I’ll bring the wine. Where am I bringing it?" 

He gave her his address and she was off the phone before he could argue that she needn't bring anything. Jack stared at the receiver in his hand before hanging up the telephone and smiling to himself. She never ceased to surprise him.

OOOOO

"Miss Fisher," he greeted as she stood on his doorstep. "Come in."

"Thank you," she stepped into his parlor and handed him the bottle of wine.

"I'll open this while you start going through the drawers," he winked and she rolled her eyes as she took off her coat. She was wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse and her make-up, while expertly applied, was muted.

"A lady never goes through drawers before dinner." She did her best impersonation of her aunt. "Besides, it's no fun when it's allowed," she added as she followed him back to the kitchen. 

“All the same, why don’t you go through that one and find the corkscrew?” He pointed towards the drawer as he pulled out two glasses for them. She smirked as she opened it, pulled it out, and handed it to him.

"It smells good," she hovered over the stove where the pan of roasted potatoes and meat had just emerged from the oven. "Is this a Jack Robinson special?"

"Mm, even I can manage to cut potatoes and sausage and sprinkle some seasoning on top after a long day," he said as he handed her a glass of wine.

"Don't be humble. Some of the best things in the world come in simple packages," she reminded him as she made herself at home at his kitchen table. He served up a plate for each of them and carried them over.

"Enjoy," he set it before her.

"So what other culinary surprises do you keep up your sleeve?" She asked as she tucked into her potatoes.

"I make a delicious sandwich."

She smiled. 

"Honestly, I visit restaurants more than I cook. I have a good rotation going, not to mention your kitchen now and again."

Phryne smiled proudly before a flicker of something crossed her features.

"And did you mean what you said earlier? About not visiting any other parlors?" She tried to sound casual as she cut up her plate but he knew better. "There isn't anyone new in your life now that you're divorced?"

"No.” He was surprised by the question, or rather that she, of all people, would assume that he was seeing someone. 

“Well, how am I to know? You never talk about yourself. You could have a woman stashed in every corner of this city and I'd never know it."

"You give me too much credit," he rolled his eyes. "I spend all of my days and most of my nights at the station. In my experience, that tends to lead to bachelorhood or personal strife or in my case, a healthy mix of both. I'm perfectly fine as I am for now."

"But don't you miss the... fun?" She phrased it as politely as she could but her eyes were shining with mischief.

"I can't remember the fun," he murmured dryly before taking a sip of his wine, which earned him a hearty laugh. "What about you? How many men are visiting your parlor these days?" He asked, changing the subject.

"I don't keep a tally but they certainly aren’t falling asleep while they’re there,” she flashed him a knowing look.

It was the perfect opportunity to talk about the case and they fell back into casual conversation as they finished their dinner. 

“Shall I open another?” Jack asked as he realized their wine bottle was empty.

“I wouldn’t object,” Phryne smiled, obviously pleased to be invited to stay a little longer. 

He got up and opened his liquor cabinet and pulled out another red. He looked up at the window and saw Phryne fixing her hair quickly behind him in the reflection. He smiled and suddenly was hit with an idea.

He opened the bottle and turned around. Phryne smiled expectantly at him.

“It’s a beautiful night. Why don’t we take our nightcap out on the patio?" He suggested. 

She looked at the back door before looking back at him intrigued but not opposed. 

“Bring the glasses,” he instructed as he passed her. 

He stepped out into the garden and waited for her to follow. He examined the star jasmine that climbed the northern side of his house. It was toward the end of it’s bloom but its soft scent still lingered lightly on the night air. When she appeared by his side, he gestured for her to sit down on the wooden bench situated under the kitchen window. 

“Such chivalry,” she grinned as she sat down. He sat down beside her and she held out each of the glasses for him to refill. He set the bottle beside him before taking his glass back from her. 

“Cheers,” she said as she clinked her glass against his before taking a sip.

“Mm,” she gave her approval. “That’s wonderful. French?”

“Italian,” he informed her. “One of those restaurants that I mentioned earlier? They introduced me to it and I’m afraid I’ve grown rather attached to it,” he smiled.

“So you do spoil yourself now and again,” she approved. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“Speaking of so-called secrets, was tonight everything that you hoped it would be?” He inquired, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s a start,” she allowed. “I’m not a fool, Jack. I know that it’s going to take more than one spin of the dial to unlock all of your tumblers,” she smiled knowingly at him and he felt something pull at his intestines, "but I've got time."

“And I’m a safe that you would like to crack?” He stared down into his glass, amused.

“Can you blame me?” She asked. “We’ve been through so much together since we met, you’ve done so much for me and for my family, and yet I hardly know anything about you. I mean, you held my hand as we stood over my sister’s open grave and I don’t even know if you have siblings."

"I’m an only child," he replied gamely. "What else would you like to know?" He asked.

She was uncharacteristically quiet but he waited for her.

"I don’t know if you’ll like it," she admitted. 

"Go on," he nodded, not afraid.

"When you fell asleep in my parlor, and I tried to wake you the first time, you were still half-asleep and you said: I’ll join you in a bit, love. Don’t wait up," she revealed.

Jack was stunned. He had no recollection of saying the words, but he knew that it was something that he had said in another life, to another woman. 

"What's your question?" He asked at last.

"What's her name?" She asked.

"Rosie," he replied, his throat tight. 

Phryne nodded and looked up at the sky. 

"And do you still love her?"

Jack had been wondering the same thing for quite some time. He should have had an answer by now.

"I suppose so. There was enough good left to part amicably, for which we were both grateful but I wouldn't leave us in the same cell for the night." He looked her over, hypercritical of any facial expressions that might give away her thoughts but she wasn't a criminal for him to interrogate. She was completely open to him.

"May I ask you a question?" He asked and she nodded. 

"Have you ever been in love with anyone?" He asked, knowing it wasn’t likely.

"No," she shook her head. “I like my independence.”

He kept his opinions on that thought to himself.

“You disagree,” she smiled, knowing him well. 

“I don’t think one necessarily eliminates the other.” 

“That’s because you’re a man,” she pointed out. 

He had to concede to that fact. He took a sip of his wine, the unspoken impasse between them feeling wider with every passing second. Maybe this dinner had been a bad idea. 

Phryne smiled to herself and he turned curiously to look at her face. 

“What?”

“I was just thinking that you kiss like a man who falls in love,” she teased.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked.

“You don’t do things by halves,” she complimented, "even in a professional setting."

He blushed a little.

"No, it’s a good thing, too good," she added. "A woman could get used to being kissed like that."

Their eyes met and suddenly, the gap between them felt infinitesimal. 

"Whoever you choose to love next will be a lucky woman indeed," she murmured. 

Jack swallowed and looked away sharply, recalling that she didn't want what he had to offer.

"Until then, my parlor is always open," she smirked. 

"Said the spider to the fly," he rolled his eyes, knowing her far too well.

She took a sip of her wine, never losing her smirk.

"Some evening, with some good whiskey and a roaring fire, you may change your mind.” 

"No," he sighed as he looked out over the garden. "You're right. I don't do things by halves," he repeated back. "And once you've had all of someone, everything else feels..."

“Inferior,” she finished for him with a nod. She turned her head away from him, clearly disappointed. 

He understood (hell, he felt disappointed himself) but it was better to set the boundaries now before things became even more complicated. They wanted different things and he’d learned recently what happened when two people on different paths fought that reality for too long.

“You’re plenty,” he assured her with a hearty confidence and she laughed despite herself. He smiled, pleased with her reaction. “And who knows, perhaps some evening, with some Italian wine and a sky full of stars, you may want to try something new,” he teased her, knowing that even with her sense of adventure, that was one path that she wasn’t likely to walk down. 

“Can you imagine?” She laughed at the absurdity of it. 

“I wouldn’t begin to lay odds on what you couldn’t do,” he shook his head. 

Phryne pressed her lips together and inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh air. 

“Either you’re far more charming than I gave you credit for or I’ve had too much wine,” she confessed with a sloppy smile. “The world is starting to spin,” 

“Probably the latter,” he said as he stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and as she came to her feet, she looked him in the eye.

“In another life, we could have really been something, you and I,” she informed him with glassy eyes and a bit of a sway. 

“I know,” he humored her. “Come inside, I’ll call you a cab.” 

“Cec is on duty tonight. Call him,” she instructed as he helped her into the kitchen.

Once Cec was on the way, Jack helped her into her coat. 

“You know, most men who get me drunk do so to take off my clothes,” she smirked. “I’ve never had someone dress me in more layers before.” 

“Happy to be your first in something,” he muttered to himself but she heard it and laughed. Maybe he had had enough wine himself. 

“Jack?” 

“Hmm?” He asked, looking up from her coat toggles.

“If you do change your mind, how will I know?”

He smiled at the question.

“I’m sure that I’ll come up with some grand romantic overture,” he assured her. “But I’ll expect the same from you when you change your mind first.” 

“I suppose that’s only fair,” she agreed. “But I wouldn’t hold your breath,” she added just as Cec honked the horn from outside. 

“Take care of yourself, Miss Fisher,” Jack said as he opened the door for her. 

Cec hopped out of the cab, rightly assuming the alcohol that hindered her ability to drive might also hinder her ability to navigate the pavement. 

“Inspector,” he greeted quickly. 

“Mr. Yates,” he greeted back. 

“Thank you for dinner!” Phryne called back with a hand in the air. 

“You’re welcome,” he smiled as Cec helped her into the cab. He waited until they were on their way before closing the door and leaning up against it with a heavy sigh.

Definitely in another life, he agreed.


	15. Early birds and night owls

“Jack?” 

"In the kitchen,” he called as he brewed a pot of tea.

The sound of her bare feet padded quietly down the hall before she emerged clad only in his top sheet, the cotton bunched firmly in her fist.

"What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?" She moaned. "The sun isn't even up yet."

"I always wake up this early. What are you doing up?" 

"Wondering why I was left alone and naked in your bed," she frowned.

“Oh,” Jack pouted along in sympathy before pulling her into his arms to kiss her good morning. "Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Thirsty," she corrected him. "Tired. Lonely," she tugged on his robe, wanting him to come back to bed.

He chuckled at her dramatics as he reached for a glass and filled it for her. 

"Here," he handed her the water. "Now," he spun her around by the shoulders, "go back to bed and I'll be right behind you." 

"Hurry," she yawned, already halfway down the hall but incapable of following instruction without getting the last word.

"I'm coming," he repeated, reaching for his tea and a slice of toast for the road. 

"Not yet, you're not," she called from his bedroom.

Jack looked down at the breakfast in his hands for a long moment before setting it back down on the counter.

Compromises would have to be made. 


	16. No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to Sunsetdreamer. She picked the word armchair. I picked the word chaise.

Phryne stared at Jack’s vacant armchair, trying to figure out just when it had become “his”. 

He'd commandeered it directly after coming into her parlor for the first time, as if it had just been waiting for him to arrive. 

Originally, when the store owner told her that the chaise that she liked so much came as a complete set, she hadn't thought twice about it. Now, she wondered if it had been a twist of fate that the two matching chairs in the parlor were the seating that she used the most.

Jack had probably chosen it originally for its defensive features, with its sense of independence and its strong arms. In those days, he had always assumed that she was one kind word away from crawling into his lap, not that she'd done anything to dissuade that thinking, she smirked to herself. He’d had good reason to worry, even with the understanding that he was still married and she was a sovereign being. But even now, after the chaise had borne witness to some scandalous activities between them, Jack still, more often than not, ended up in the same chair next to the drinks cart, and she ended up beside the fireplace.

She set her drink down to change the record to something else when the front door opened. She stood up and saw his hand setting his hat on the rack, and heard the familiar swish of his coat as he hung it up. He stepped into the parlor and paused as he discovered her waiting for him by the mantle. 

He didn't get a chance to explain his tardiness because she was already wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him hello.

“Hello to you too.”

He looked amused by her silent greeting but his eyes were tired and Phryne knew that they had seen something terrible since the last time that they'd crossed paths.

“Bad day?” She questioned.

“Yes, I’m afraid that it was,” he nodded solemnly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

He shook his head so she pressed her forehead against his and waited for him to make the next move. 

“How many of those have you had?” He questioned as he smelled her breath.

“You were late,” she excused without an answer. “But suffice it to say, I am currently quite amenable to influence, Inspector.” 

“Is that so?” His lips twitched a little. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to try and catch up.” He said as he sat her down in his chair. "What have you been drinking to?"

“I was trying to figure out why you always choose to sit in this chair," she said as she patted the sturdy arms faithfully. Phryne-warding capabilities indeed.

“I don't know. Habit, I suppose. You always seem to be by the fireplace when I come in.”

“I am not!” She felt affronted by the accusation that she was to blame for their arrangement. “And even if I am, that still leaves the chaise.” 

“I don’t care for the chaise,” he confessed with a scrunched up nose as he poured his drink.

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked, wanting to know.

“It’s uncomfortable. Anyway, it’s not meant for sitting; it’s meant for lounging, but I’m too tall to lounge on it, so I choose the armchair that’s available or I stand at the fireplace.”

Phryne thought about it and she tilted her head. 

“We could always go to your home for nightcaps,” she offered.

“It makes no difference to me,” he shrugged. “Then again, I’m the one who’s perfectly happy in the chair.” 

“But if you wanted to, we could. I wouldn’t mind, especially if it were easier after a long day.” 

“Phryne, what is this really about?” He asked. 

“What is what really about?”

“Why are my chair habits suddenly so important to you?”

“They're not. I’m simply saying that just because we fell into these patterns: nightcaps in my parlor, assigned chairs, it doesn’t mean that I’m attached to them if you wanted something different.”

“Right,” he said, despite clearly not accepting that as the truth. 

They stood in silence as the record came to an end and Phryne walked over to turn off the record player. 

“You know, if you’re unhappy about something, you can just come out and say it." Jack allowed. 

“I'm not unhappy. Why? Are you unhappy?” She asked, alarmed by the thought.

“No,” he replied quickly. “No, but if you’ve grown bored with the arrangement...” 

“I haven’t.” she cut him off. 

“Fine.” 

“Good.” 

They both stood on opposite sides of the rug, filled with defensive frustration, and completely unsure of how they ended up there.

Jack swallowed his drink and Phryne folded her arms uncomfortably. 

When he'd finished, he turned to her again. 

"Would you like me to go?" He asked, his voice soft but his intentions direct. 

"I think it’s quite clear that I’d like you to do whatever you prefer to do," she said honestly, not wanting to get lost in an endless cycle of arguments. 

“Well, I’d like to not fight over the furniture,” he said definitively as he set down his glass.

Phryne looked at the exhausted man standing in her parlor and she suddenly felt just as tired as he looked. 

“I never meant…”

“I know,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Let’s just go upstairs.” He said as he made his way out of the parlor. 

Phryne watched him go before following him up the staircase and into the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed removing his shoes when she found him. 

“I’m not unhappy,” she promised him from the doorway. 

He paused briefly in his actions but didn’t look over at her, not wanting to confirm for himself that she might be lying.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” she confessed softly as she stepped into the room. She watched him set his shoes aside as she came to stand in front of him. She placed her hands on his face and pulled his chin up to look at her. “And the reason why I was drinking was because I started to worry that you weren’t going to come tonight,” she admitted and she watched his eyes change from fear to concern immediately. 

She stroked his cheek for the kindness before stepping away from him and crossing her arms again, suddenly feeling too vulnerable. 

"Why wouldn't I?" He asked.

"Because I've come to expect you to," she whispered. "Every night, at seven, in that rotten chair," she hissed, taking out her foolishness on the object itself. "And there's no reason to expect that from you. You're a grown man with a home of your own and a job that keeps you running and yet, when you weren't there, I started to wonder why, and if you were alright, or if you'd gone home, or out, and why was I sitting in my parlor expecting you to come to me when we had no plans to do so? Surely, I wouldn't be expected to greet you in your home every night."

"I should have called," he said as he stood up. "From now on, when I know that I will be late, I'll phone you to let you know," he assured her. 

"That's my point, Jack. You shouldn't have to phone. I'm not your wife, I don't need to know where you are every hour of the day. I wouldn't do that for you and I don't expect you to do it for me."

"No, but you are my partner," he reminded her. "And a telephone call now and again is the least that I can do." He looked at her until she gave him her attention. "We're writing the rules as we go, right? Building something that is unique to us? That requires trust, and a hell of a lot of honesty. I expect us to have a lot of complicated conversations in the future, but this one? This one is easy. I will be in your parlor at seven, unless we discuss otherwise."

She opened her mouth to argue but he purposely spoke over her.

"Because I want to be sitting there with you as much as you want to see me there."

"I don't want to have the type of relationship where I make demands on your time."

"Phryne, that's what a relationship is: prioritizing people that you love. You're my priority now, and I'm yours. I want to see you at the end of every day. I look forward to it."

"And if you decide that you don't, you'll tell me?"

"Have I ever had an issue with telling you no before?" He asked her rhetorically. 

Her mind flashed with all of the times he'd done just that and she found herself smiling.

"Well, that was before," she explained as she pressed her body against his, wanting to feel close to him again.

"Before what?" He asked, suspicious of her suddenly affectionate behavior.

"Before you were allowed to scream yes," she teased. 

Jack smiled at her point, unable to argue.

"The two are not mutually exclusive," he informed her.

"Do you want to say no now?" She asked as she began undressing him slowly, proving her point. 

He made no attempts to stop her actions or respond to the question.

"I'm sorry?" She leaned in closer, wanting an answer.

"I'm choosing to not execute that privilege at this time," he smiled, maneuvering around the word with the true grace of middle management. 

Phryne mouthed the word oh, proudly proving her point, until he kissed the victorious grin off her face and pulled her down onto the bed with him.


	17. Exhausted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing trope is Phrack laying in bed. I can't avoid it. It always just... appears.

Jack didn’t care that she was sleeping, he draped her over top of him like a blanket. He knew that she would never wake up. Proving his point, she nuzzled her face against his shoulder briefly before her slow, even breathing leveled out again. 

He put one hand behind his head and settled underneath her comforting weight. His lower back was aching from hours of crouching over the body they’d found in the river and finally stretching out the tight muscles was a pain that he masochistically enjoyed. The feel of her and her satin pajamas against his bare skin didn’t hurt his senses either. He placed his other hand on the small of her back and smiled to himself as she snorted a little in her sleep. 

When he’d thought of being with her in their earlier days, he’d never imagined experiencing something like this. She was always an otherworldly creature to him, a demi-goddess of sorts that was equal parts intelligent, dangerous, and charming. Occasionally, he would earn a turned head, a surprised smile, or a stolen kiss, and he’d been grateful for that attention but even then, he’d known that they were all small battles in a losing war. He’d never thought that there might be more to take. 

But now? 

Now he’d seen firsthand the color of her lips before they were painted, and the way that she left her clothes wherever they were removed, your own feet be damned. He’d seen her slam doors in anger and weep with grief. He’d seen every side of her and he’d only fallen more in love. It wasn’t the awe that kept him in her bed now, it was the little realities that he kept discovering every single day. 

“Jack?” She murmured as she stirred above him. 

“Mmhm,” he rubbed her back a little in confirmation. 

“Did you just get in?” She asked groggily as she raised her head to check the time. 

“Outdoor crime scene, middle of the night. It took a bit longer than usual,” he yawned. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“S’alright. I like knowing that you’re here," she revealed as she lay her head back down. “For several reasons,” she smiled to herself.

He smiled and pulled her pillow-marked face closer to his own. He kissed her briefly before examining her face for her reaction. 

"How tired are you?" She asked curiously.

"Exhausted," he confirmed with a smile before rolling her underneath him.


	18. Anesthesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always wanted to fill in the snippets that were missing during King Memses’ Curse. I never went back and connected the dots, but there's enough here to warrant posting, I think.

Phryne couldn’t feel her body, couldn’t control her eyes, but she knew there was a reason to panic. 

Jane.

Jane’s face, blurred but so visibly shaken. Shaken because of her. 

"Jane!" She called out desperately, but it came out as a garbled groan, not intelligible in any way. She tried again. “Jane?” This time it sounded helpless to her own ears. "Janey," her grief mutated, unable to resist a familiar target.

"Shh, you're alright, love." A woman’s voice appeared through the fog and Phryne felt the slightest pressure on her shoulders. Someone was touching her. “Everything’s alright,” the voice added and Phryne began to sob. She didn’t know why. 

With the sedative in her blood, there was nothing to stem the tide, no sensation to block, no walls, no logic. Her tears came on their own, refusing to cease, wave after wave. 

She didn’t have the energy to stop it, let alone question its motives, so she gave over, purging whatever it was that wouldn’t let her be. 

OOOOO

Murmurs of conversation stirred her from her sleep, voices her body wanted her to know before her brain could process who they were. 

“Phryne?” The voice was safe, the voice was Mac’s. “Phryne, can you open your eyes?”

For once in her life, Phryne Fisher did what she was asked to do. 

“Mac?” Her throat was dry but she blinked enough to see that she was in a hospital.

“You’re alright. You’re at the hospital.” Mac began slowly. “The Inspector brought you in. Do you recall why?” 

“Foyle.” The word unlocked the fear inside of her and she reached out to clutch Mac’s arm in assurance.

“He’s in custody and he won’t get away again. Those in power don’t like being made into fools.” Mac assured her and for some reason, that logic made enough sense to ease Phryne’s fear. 

“Where is Jane?” She remembered her priorities, the people who she had been intent on saving.

“Jane is safe. Not a scratch on her, I checked her myself,” Mac promised, knowing full well what could happen to young girls while they were sedated. “She’s at home with Dot and Mr. Butler. Cec and Bert are there too, right where you left them. They won’t leave until you come home. Alice was there mothering everyone the last time I phoned.” 

“And Jack?” Her voice was wavering but that could be forgiven. The man had saved her life after all. 

“He took a rather hard knock on the head from a crowbar. He was rather insistent about you though. I told him that I would personally inform him when you could be interviewed and not a moment before. He was released with the understanding that he needed to rest at home and that was the only number I would be phoning so he’d better be in bed when I called.” 

Phryne could see the showdown unfold: Jack, with his stubborn jaw clenched tight, trying to close his case from a hospital bed. Mac, refusing to sway as she protected her friend. Her heart filled with appreciation for the man who would go through all of this simply to see justice done for her and the woman who refused to let him hurt her.

“Wait, if Jack is at home, who’s taking care of him?” Phryne said as she attempted to sit up.

“His father-in-law picked him up,” Mac said.

“Ex-father-in-law; Jack is divorced. Surely he’s not home alone with a head injury?” Phryne grew concerned. 

“I’m sure his family, ex or otherwise, are with him,” Mac tried to relax her but that did nothing of the sort. She didn’t know these people or if they had his best interest at heart. At the very least, they had a fairly good reason to leave him alone to fend for himself. 

“Phone Cec and Bert to pick him up. I need to see him. Foyle told me where they are, where they’re buried.” 

“Phryne…” 

“I need Jack. For Janey. Please?" 

Without another word, Mac left her side. 

OOOOO

When Jack arrived, she was sitting up and feeling herself again. He, on the other hand, looked precisely like he had been attacked with a crowbar hours after his divorce was finalized. There were dark circles under his eyes and she wondered, not for the first time, what the last few weeks had put him through.

“Jack, thank god. I know where they are. He told me the girls were buried at the head of the river…” 

He held his hand up. 

“Phryne, I’ve got Inspector Bridges from City Central with me out in the hall. He’s the one who is going to take your statement.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m simply following protocol.” 

He was using his professional tone on her and she didn’t appreciate the formality. He seemed to realize his mistake and lowered his voice.

“I’ve been taken off of the case now that I’ve been made a part of it,” he explained. “I’m also on medical leave until this headache goes away,” he gestured to his skull.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

He shook her concern away. 

“We’ve only got a moment alone. I wanted to make sure you were ready to tell your story to someone new."

She nodded. 

"I'll let him know," Jack gestured through the door's window.

“Jack? Who is taking care of you in all of this? Mac said you weren't at Wardlow with everyone else."

Before she got her answer, a man Phryne assumed to be Inspector Bridges walked in.

"Miss Fisher, I’m Inspector Bridges. Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes," she invited the man to her bedside but kept her eyes on Jack.

"That will be all, Inspector. We'll take it from here," Bridges dismissed him coldly but Jack nodded gamely and stepped outside. What Bridges didn’t notice was that the door was still ajar. 

Phryne smiled inwardly at the well-cut shadow still lingering in the hall. It was a trick that he’d picked up from her and she was happy to hand her information to the man who truly deserved it. 

“The girls are buried at the head of the river, in a grove of weeping willows. He called it ‘The Field of Reeds’,” she spoke just loudly enough to be overheard. 

Information in hand, Jack continued down the hall and Phryne continued on with her statement. 

OOOOO

Phryne was lying in bed, feeling sorry for herself, when a knock came from the door post. She looked up from her bed and saw Jane standing there. 

“Jane!” 

“Mac said that you were asking for me,” she said tentatively as she took a step into the room.

“Yes, yes, come in,” she sat up and opened her arms wide. Jane gave her a hug and Phryne wanted to cry with relief at seeing her safe and sound. “How are you? Are you alright?” She looked the girl over before hugging her again.

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“Wonderful now that you are here." She pulled away from her. "Oh, Jane. I’m so sorry. I never wanted any of this to affect you," she cupped her face in her hands. 

“It wasn’t your fault." She said as guilt flashed across her features. 

“What is it?” Phryne asked, wanting her to be honest.

“You, you drank that sedative to save me, didn’t you?” 

“Partly,” Phryne nodded. “I am your guardian, Jane. I would never let anything bad happen to you if I could stop it.”

“But what if you had died?” She asked, the reality of the situation hitting her as her eyes began to fill with tears. "It would have been all my fault." 

“Oh, no, darling. No," she shook her head as Jane began to cry. “Come here." Phryne pulled the young girl into bed beside her. “It was no one's fault but his," she absolved her ward of the sins that she could never seem to absolve herself of. "Everyone's safe now, alright?” She murmured into her hair as she held her tightly. “Everything’s going to be fine from now on,” she promised as she stroked and kissed her hair. "It's all over."

They stayed entwined like that until Jane finally fell asleep. Phryne didn't so much as breathe for fear of disturbing her, leaving her exactly where she lay. She needed the rest. 

Jack arrived not long after and took a quiet step into the room before pausing.

“It’s fine, she’s asleep.” She gave him permission to come closer. 

“Is she alright?” Jack asked hesitantly, looking her over with a worried brow. 

Phryne’s heart clenched at the care behind his quiet question. 

“Yes, thanks to you.” 

“Thanks to her. She's the one who got us out.” 

Phryne gave him a curious look and he shook his head.

“I’ll tell you the story someday,” he murmured. “For now, I just wanted to stop in and give you an update.”

“You found them.” She knew it simply by the way that he stood before her. 

“Officers said that they found a spot that matches his description,” he adjusted her expectations. “They’re going to start digging tomorrow afternoon. Knowing that we were sidelined, Collins was the first to volunteer for the job,” he informed her, more than a hint of pride in his voice at the young man’s actions.

Phryne felt her heart swell herself.

“I’d like to be there,” she stated. It wasn’t a request, although Jack’s uneasy face told her it wasn’t going to be easy to arrange. 

“I’ll let Collins know to expect you,” he said, leaving out the endless amount of red tape and personal favors that he’d have to negotiate in the next few hours to make her wish a reality. 

“Thank you.” 

He nodded, knowing how much she meant it, and started to leave.

“Jack?” She stopped him. “Will you do me one more favor? On your way home, will you stop by Wardlow?”

“Do you need something?” He asked curiously. 

“Quite the opposite. Mr. Butler was concerned when you didn’t stop by the house with everyone else. While I’m sure that you wanted some well-earned silence for your headache, I know that it would make him feel better to set eyes on you. Rumor has it that he has a thank you basket prepared with your name on it. If I had to guess, I would imagine it includes your share of the family dinner and a bottle of my best whiskey?” She suggested.

Jack cleared his throat and blushed a little, unsure of how to react to that gift. She took advantage of the opportunity to catch him off guard and opened her mouth to ask him yet again how he was doing but Jane stirred against her and she looked down.

“Would you like me to bring Jane home while I’m there?” He offered. 

Phryne’s arms instinctively tightened around the girl. 

“No, I’ll keep her for the night. We’ll both sleep better for it.” She knew it to be true.

He nodded minutely in understanding 

“It’s almost over,” he reminded her. “We’ll all sleep better then.”

She nodded, hoping that he was right .

“Good night, Miss Fisher,” he bid her farewell.

“Good night,” she watched him go.

OOOOO

Her birthday present was being released from the hospital the next morning and in the time it took to go home and get dressed, she was off in the Hispano to find her sister. Dot refused to let her go alone. 

When they arrived at the head of the river, Jack and Hugh were standing by as a local constable dug a hole. 

"I thought that you were off the case?" Phryne tilted her head as she walked up to Jack.

"I'm not here for the State of Victoria," he stated quietly. 

His words took a second to sink in but when they did, she nearly cried from the overwhelming rush of emotions that flooded her. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug for the first time since he’d rescued her.

"You're a good man, Jack," she whispered in his ear.

He pulled away solemnly, his concerned eyes never losing their gravitas. 

"Are you sure that you want to be here for this?” He couldn’t resist asking the question before it was too late. 

"You may have to stop me from stealing the shovel," she replied, clearly anxious. 

Jack took a step back and she stood by his side until they heard the sound of metal hitting wood.

OOOOO

While Jack had been willing to attend her birthday party, he hadn't yet joined it. Phryne had hoped that he would let go a little now that they were all together again but she understood if he wasn’t in a mood to celebrate much of anything.

As she made her way over to his chair, she picked up the remnants of the champagne bottle to bring with her. He smiled as she wiggled it enticingly at him and he held out his glass, not opposed to another round. She filled it silently before setting the empty bottle aside.

"Are you terribly bored, Inspector?" She asked as she balanced precariously beside him on the arm of the chair.

“Quite the opposite, actually. Your guest list is a feast for the observant," he smiled.

"I suppose it is," she agreed proudly as she looked over at the hodge-podge of people dancing. "But enough about them. How are you feeling?" She asked before taking a sip of her champagne.

"Good," he replied politely.

"Liar," she disagreed with a frown and he chuckled at her childish response. “You were concussed, and then given no credit for solving one of the largest murder cases in Melbourne’s history, and then you held me up through all of my problems while you were meant to be dealing with your own,” she reminded him. “And I can’t even return the favor because you haven’t so much as pouted about any of it.”

Jack gave her a long look, clearly caught off-guard by the blunt nature of her statement.

“You were divorced. Don’t you want to talk about it with someone?" She asked.

"No,” he said so definitively that they both had to laugh at his curt response.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you?” She sighed, shaking her head before assessing him. "You’re not in the mood for conversation and you're clearly not one for dancing," she determined. "I know. Follow me." She stood up and took his hand. He didn't pull away, his curiosity or his exhaustion distracting him from his usual spacial awareness between them. She pulled him up the stairs and into the quiet corner of the house normally commandeered by Jane.

"Wow,” he muttered as he looked around the room.

"Do you have a library at home, Jack?" She asked curiously, imagining him surrounded by the very books that he quoted to her. 

"I prefer the space-saving utility of a library card, Miss Fisher," he replied with a faux haughtiness that made her smile. She saw his pleased reaction before he turned his attention to the shelves, pretending to peruse them so that she wouldn’t comment on it.

"Well, we operate on trust here at Wardlow. Help yourself to anything you’d like. Classics are over there," she pointed towards the Shakespeare collection. "More modern tales here," she gestured beside her. "And that closed cabinet is completely off limits to both children and on-duty Inspectors," she hinted at a salacious secret. "But if you ask _very,_ _very_ nicely, I'll let you pat me down until you find the key,” she grinned before turning around to leave him in a dramatic exit.

"Phryne?" He stopped her feet and her heart with the single word. There was a hint of something in his tone, something that suggested that he could, if he wanted to, discover every key that she had and more.

She turned around and gave him her attention. 

He made his way towards her, his eyes never leaving her face. When he was within touching distance, he stopped.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

“You’ll let me know if I can do more?” She requested sincerely.

He looked hesitant to say yes, but he nodded once, knowing that it meant something to her.

“Good. Because the last few weeks have proven that neither of us can be single pillars any longer. We’ve got people now, you and I, and they seem to be as stubborn as we are.” 

He smirked a little. 

“But just for tonight, I’ll let you pretend,” she winked as she turned around and left him alone in the library.

OOOOO

When Jack emerged again, it was to say his goodbyes. He accepted his coat from Mr. Butler as she came to escort him to the door.

"Happy birthday, Miss Fisher," he smiled as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. 

"Thank you, for everything," she adjusted his coat lapels for him in an act of domesticity that felt alarmingly natural despite its intimacy. 

She watched his throat bob in reaction and she took a step back to assess her work and give him a moment to breathe.

"Would it be impolite to hope that our paths don't cross for the next few days?" He asked as she walked him to the door.

"No, I think that we've both earned the upcoming holiday," she agreed with a nod. "But, as I said before, you are welcome here any time, with or without a case. The whiskey and draughts will be waiting for you. As will I,” she added as her eyes caught his, wanting him to understand her meaning. 

"I'll keep that in mind,” he promised, meaning it. “In the meantime, take care of yourself?" The request was practically a plea.

"I will if you will,” she opened the door. “And if you can’t manage it, phone me for the job," she grinned as he walked passed her. 

“One week, Miss Fisher." He made his demands without turning around.

She scoffed at the impertinence. 

“And a Happy Christmas to you too, Inspector!” She called after him from the doorway. 

She'd swear that she caught a glint of a smile as he opened his car door in the dark.


	19. Boyhood Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just discovered the brilliant whitenoise27 by reading the first chapter of "With Swallow's Wings" and it inspired me to dig this little thing out of my notes file and finally post it. Go check it out, it's really great.

Phryne nearly pulled his shoulder out of his socket as she yanked him through the lobby and out to the street. 

“Phryne, what are you…” 

She stopped in front of a racing bicycle tied to the back of a motorcar and let go of his hand only to gesture to it.

“It’s for you.” She smiled proudly as he stared at the bicycle blankly. “I rented it from the shop down the street.” 

“Thank you?” He stuttered, perplexed by the gift.

“Jack, we’re in France,” she emphasized, “with a free week to ride wherever you’d like to go.”

When he finally realized what she was suggesting, and how proud she was to be able to give it to him, his heart clenched in his chest. 

“It’s your boyhood dream!" She beamed in confirmation. "The Tour de Jack!”

Jack stared at the woman who had broken his pride and his heart more times than he cared to count. Every last assault had been worth the pain to stand here and see her smiling at him like that.

“I know what you’re thinking," she continued, reading his silence as apprehension, "‘But Phryne, I didn’t bring my racing attire!’ Don’t worry. I bought that as well and it’s already in the car along with a fresh map and enough food and water to keep even you satisfied. Now the only question is: where do you want to start?” 

He smiled to himself and crooked his finger towards her. She walked into his arms and he placed his hands on either side of her face and really took her in before kissing her in gratitude.

“I love you,” he whispered.

"I love you too," she agreed. "So, are you interested?" She asked and he realized that he had never answered her question.

“Shall we flip a coin?” He asked, getting into the spirit of the surprise by being spontaneous for once. The grin that broke out on her face nearly split it in two as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a franc. He tossed it in the air and caught it in his palm. 

“Heads, we go west and tails, we go east?” He suggested.

She nodded, looking down at his palm eagerly. 

He opened his fingers and sure enough, there was a face staring back at them. 

“West it is,” he agreed with fate’s decision, showing it to her as proof.

She jumped into the driver’s seat and he joined her quickly, knowing full well that she’d leave him standing in the street if he didn’t keep up. She handed him a map of the most recent Tour de France route and started the engine.

“You're in command, Inspector,” she smiled as she put the car in gear. 

"Drive until you reach the sea," he instructed nonchalantly, drunk with freedom. 

As Phryne pulled away from the hotel, he opened his map and begin creating his own racing route, knowing that the real path to his dreams was already being traveled. 


	20. Playing Favorites

“Shine your shoes, Miss?” A young boy offered who couldn’t be more than ten. “I’m quick, and honest too. Won’t look up your skirt or nothing like those other boys.” 

“You’re awfully cheeky for someone so young,” Phryne smirked, impressed. “What’s your name?” 

“Jack.” 

Phryne smiled. 

“My favorite person’s name is Jack,” she confessed conspiratorially and the young boy smiled. “Why are you out here working when you should be off playing with the others?”

“Gotta eat, don’t we? Me ma’s sick. Won’t be for long though, Miss. She’s a fighter.” 

“I don’t require a shoe shine, but here,” she opened her purse. “This is for the grocer,” she handed him enough money to last a week, “and this is to treat yourself to some candy,” she winked as she added another coin.

“Really? Oh thank you, Miss!” He took the money in surprise.

“Take it straight home to your mother!” She made him promise and he nodded as he ran off happily. 

When she turned around, she saw a familiar leaning silhouette in the alley, watching the entire interaction with interest. He straightened slowly and made his way towards her. 

“Your favorite person, hmm?” He questioned, a smile threatening to emerge. 

“Best we keep that between us, the others will get jealous” she suggested, blushing a little at the very public way she’d just declared her love for him.

“I’ll do my best,” he agreed gallantly as he put his arm around her and led her down the street. 


	21. The Education of Hugh Collins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two snippets in which Hugh gets to be the adult in the room.

**Phryne**

“Ah, Miss Fisher. Beating us to the scene again, I see,” Jack smiled at seeing her standing on the pavement. 

“Not precisely,” Phryne began hesitantly and his face changed immediately. 

“Again?” His shoulders sagged. 

“No! Well,” she relented. 

Jack rolled his eyes and brushed past her and into the crime scene.

“I was the last person in Mr. Corbin’s shop last night. I may have been the last person to see him alive. Perhaps I could be a witness.” She trailed behind him like an eager child.

“That usually makes you the suspect,” he pointed out seriously. “I’ll ask you to leave the shop for the moment, Miss Fisher.” He gestured towards the front door. 

“What? Why? What could I have possibly done?” She exclaimed in protest at the idea. 

“I shudder to think,” Jack responded dryly.

Hugh stifled a chuckle behind his notebook and Phryne shot him a warning look. His smile was quickly replaced by a tight pursing of his lips. 

“It’s not funny, Jack. What am I supposed to do, just stand aside and watch as I’m accused of murder?” 

“That’s the general protocol, yes,” he nodded. “I suggest you get as far away from my crime scene until your name can be cleared. Go home, Miss Fisher. I’ll update you as soon as I’m able.” 

“You’re not going to ask for my alibi?” 

“You left the shop at closing?”

“At the stroke of six. He was always very punctual.” She looked over at the body forlornly, recalling the fastidious man.

“And who is the next person who saw you?” He asked, already knowing the answer. 

“You, of course. When you... came home at seven,” she answered reluctantly. 

“Constable Collins, would you escort Miss Fisher to her motorcar, please?” He asked, never taking his eyes off hers.

“Yes, sir.” 

Collins’ look begged for her cooperation and she sighed and headed for the door.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I’ve no doubts that we’ll get this solved quickly,” he assured her. 

Phryne glanced over his shoulder one more time before grabbing him by the elbow. 

“Jack is going to be a beast over this one. Until you find another suspect, every single rule has to be followed to the letter. One mistake and I’m locked in City South for the foreseeable future and no one wants that. Keep an eye on him for me, please?” 

“Of course,” Hugh said gallantly. “But the Inspector's wrong, Miss, you can assist us,” he offered, glancing back at the store and Phryne tilted her head in interest. “By behaving like a normal suspect for once and not a detective.” 

Her eyebrows raised at the gall of the young man as he attempted his best Inspector impersonation on her.

Hugh looked completely unrepentant for stating the facts and her eyes narrowed.

“I think I liked you better before you became a father, Hugh Collins.” 

He smiled as he shut her in the motorcar to await her fate.

OOOOO

**Jack**

He practically slammed his office door behind him as he made his way to his desk.

"Everything alright, sir?" Hugh looked into the office in alarm as Jack realized his second door stood wide open to the hall.

The universe would not afford him a single break today. 

"I'll give you a single guess, Constable," he offered as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to stem a full-fledged migraine before 8 am. 

"Miss Fisher?" He sighed and Jack pointed a finger in his direction for the correct answer. 

"Her stubbornness is superhuman," he accused, feeling every bit like he'd been ramming his head against a brick wall for the last twelve hours.

“Sir, I don't want to speak out of turn, but while we both know that Miss Fisher can be, well, a lot of work," he stated bluntly and Jack rolled his eyes at the understatement of the century, "a smart man once told me that it’s not as though she were born with two heads. He was right then and I think he’s probably right now. She is still human after all."

Jack stared, gobsmacked, as the smiling constable nodded his goodbye and continued walking down the hall. 

Not a single, goddamn break.


	22. Efficiency

“You heard the man. Battle stations!” Phryne stood up and left the kitchen. 

Jack watched on as Dot instantly began pouring a thermos of tea and packing a basket of food.

“Mr. B?” Cec looked hopefully towards the older man who simply nodded, understanding the request as he headed to the butler’s pantry.

“Still have that broom handle?” Bert requested as he peered over the butler’s shoulder. 

Jack frowned, wondering what on earth they might need a broom for, until Mr. Butler pulled out a Mauser and the request suddenly made much more sense.

By the time Phryne appeared again, dressed in black, Bert had the car pulled up and the team had stocked it with the food, tea, weaponry, and tools.

Jack looked down at his watch to find that less than ten minutes had passed. He half-wondered what the British army could have done with such efficiency. 

“Do keep up, Jack,” she gestured impatiently as she passed him on her way out the door.

"Mr. Butler's pantry…" Jack began, wanting to know more as he followed her down the front walk.

"Hides the safe," she finished simply. 

"Isn't that safe meant for silver?" He asked as they both opened the doors to the Hispano but paused to settle the question.

“Are they not?” She asked pointedly as she looked down at the guns in the backseat before looking back at him.

Jack tilted his head, conceding his point, and they both got into the car. 


	23. Marked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a little lipstick kink to start your weekend off on the right foot.

Phryne was staring coquettishly when he looked up from his newspaper. 

He glanced over at her, curious as to what she may be thinking to have her simmering over morning tea. 

“How can I help you, Miss Fisher?” He inquired, using his professional voice.

“What makes you think that I require your help, Inspector?” She volleyed back as she set down her tea cup and headed towards him.

“Let’s call it an investigative hunch.” He set the paper down as she came up behind him and draped her arms down his chest. He cupped a hand over her forearm, welcoming her into his space.

"I don't need anything from you except you, Inspector," she whispered in his ear before scraping her teeth over his soft flesh. 

"Phryne…" he hummed in pleasure even as he tried to dodge the sensation running down his spine. 

Her hands snaked under his jacket, wanting access to him.

"I've only got ten minutes and what you're suggesting requires….oh god, hours," he groaned at the thought of what he might be able to accomplish if he stayed home with her today.

"I have hours to give," she enticed. "Hours and hours of taking you inside me slowly, letting you have me in any way you please, waiting to come until the sun sets." She placed an open kiss on his jaw and his entire body ached with want for her.

Jack shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the sudden need for more room in his trousers. 

"My thighs are wet just thinking about it. I can already feel that hungry mouth of yours exploring my skin."

She let out a soft moan at her own imagination as her nails came up to drag down his scalp. 

Jack clutched the table for a brief moment before realizing that any sane man would have called in 30 seconds ago. 

"Goddamn it, go to the bedroom," Jack ordered, overcompensating for his own weaknesses. "Now." 

She dropped her robe at his feet, slowly walking down the hall as Jack nearly ripped his telephone from the kitchen wall.

"It's Robinson. Tell McCaffrey that I have a family emergency and I won't be in today. No, nothing of the sort. I'll phone when I know more. Thanks." He ended the call and began tugging at his tie. 

When he found her in the bedroom, he came up behind her and sucked at the side of her neck, rubbing his hands over her bare stomach as he pressed his trouser-clad erection into her. She put her hands over his and moved them to her core to prove that she hadn’t been exaggerating. She was begging to be devoured.

He didn't even bother removing his clothes as he turned her around and moved down her body. 

Phryne reached blindly behind her and managed to catch the edge of the bed as she fell backwards. 

With her back now partially on the mattress, Jack brought her legs over his shoulders to help steady her and held her hips tightly in his hands. He knew before he even tasted her that she wouldn’t last long and he made no attempts to torture her. Within seconds, his tongue was working to get her off. He slipped his fingers inside her and began to stroke her inside and out.

She hummed, biting her lip as her soaked flesh trembled around his fingers. He picked up his speed, wanting to watch her scream. 

Her incoherent moans turned into cries as her desperation increased. Her body suddenly clenching tightly around his fingers was his only sign that she had fallen over the edge. He kept up his speed as she continued writhing, not going to stop until she did. 

"Keep... going," she moaned just before her body crashed again, this time harder, her hips stuttering as she gasped for air.

Jack slowly dragged his fingers out of her. He moved her legs to the bed, rolling her onto her side. He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his hand mindlessly as he sat down beside her. 

"Sunset, you say?" He teased as he glanced towards the sunny window.

She reached blindly behind her for his fingers and sucked them into her mouth, silencing him. 

He felt her tongue massage his fingers the same way that it took his cock, which stirred with jealousy as she ate herself off of his rough skin. 

His clothes were suddenly too tight and his left hand set to work unbuttoning whatever it reached first. 

Phryne stopped him, pulling away and doing it herself. She had him naked remarkably quickly and he tried not to think too hard about how her skills were acquired. 

"Stay just like this," she commanded, despite the fact that he had no reason to stray. She disappeared into the bathroom and emerged with something in her hand.

She straddled him over his stomach, her dampness making his abdomen clench in desire and she felt it, smirking. 

"Patience," she murmured. "Do you trust me?" She asked, completely open to him. 

"Yes." The words left his lips before he could even consider any other response. 

"I meant what I said about your mouth," she said, revealing a bright red lipstick and opening it. "Ravenous, from the very beginning," she applied the shade on his lips. 

He was too stunned with lust to contemplate why she was painting him in her makeup but when his brain finally recognized what she was doing, it was too late to protest. He tasted it curiously, as if it might taste differently on his own lips firsthand, rather than stolen from hers but it didn't. 

She moved on to his hands, drawing red lines of wax down each of his fingers and zig-zagging crookedly across his palms. 

"I want evidence of your desire, stained on my skin," she opened a darker merlot shade and applied it to her own lips and hands, "and I want to leave my own."

Jack's entire blood supply settled in his cock as he realized what they would look like in the aftermath of their lovemaking. 

She leaned forward to set the lipsticks on the bedside table and he put his hands on her back to steady her. 

She smiled as he inadvertently started the game. She placed her hands on his chest and slid backwards, coming to a stop when his erection was between her thighs. 

Jack sat up and she took the opportunity to nibble on the sensitive corner of his jaw behind his ear. Her fingertips rubbed at his nipples, leaving ghosts of purple circles there as her tongue did the same down his neck.

Not wanting to be left behind, Jack turned them over and left hot kisses down her neck and over her breasts. He tongued her nipples into stiff peaks, only to purposefully leave a red ring around each one. 

He trailed down her body, leaving red smears with every open mouthed kiss and desperate touch, until he reached her toes and started up the other side of her. Where his mouth didn't go, his hands did, until she was practically stained pink from head to toe. 

Phryne reached down and grabbed him on either side of his face and pulled him back towards her, wanting to taste him. Their tongues battled for control as she turned him onto his back. 

"I need you again," she panted as she spun around to face away from him and he saw his handprints sprawled across her back.

"Fuck," he groaned as she lowered herself onto his cock and he imagined the burgundy handprint she must have left there as she guided him inside her.

He sat up, moving his arms under hers so his hands could play with her breasts.

"Jack," she panted her approval as he sucked on her earlobe, temporarily distracting themselves from the blinding heat between their legs.

She was so slick, so warm, so perfectly tight around him that he couldn't help but grab her hips for more friction but she worked slowly, never letting him have his release. 

One of his hands came down to rub her clitoris, the remnants of the coloring long worn from his fingertips, and she began to pant and whimper in need. 

His white grip on her hips didn’t seem to bother her as he thrust up into her and climaxed. His fingers moved mindlessly as he came down from his high, but it did the trick, sending her into her third orgasm a few moments later. 

She fell back against his chest and he collapsed against the mattress, both of them completely spent. 

“Three orgasms before breakfast,” she murmured, beyond satisfied. “I should keep you home more often.” 

“I’ll be billing you for new sheets,” he sighed and her low rumble of approval against his heart made him smile. “Come on,” he gestured for her to move so he could get up. “I’ll get some towels.”

“Leave it.” 

“My face will stain purple,” he pointed out. 

“I’ll lend you my powder,” she offered.

He rolled her off to the side, ignoring her whines of protest as he got out of bed to bathe for the second time that day. 

"Jack?"

He paused before slowly turning around.

"Bring breakfast back with those towels?" She asked hopefully. 

"I had my breakfast, Miss Fisher. Twice." He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, waiting to hear her argument. 

"Please?" She added with all the charm that she could muster.

He sighed, never able to deny her when she sincerely wanted something. 

"Thank you!" She called as he disappeared into the bathroom. 


	24. Unbearably

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another post binge as I clear out some snippets...

"Tell me that you love me," she murmured, looking hazily into his eyes as they swayed in his parlor. Between the whiskey and their new relationship, they were floating around the room in slow circles.

"I love you," he acquiesced.

"How much?" She prodded, wanting more.

"Too much," he promised.

"Unbearably?"

"Without a doubt,” he agreed confidently.

She leaned in closer to hide her smile against his cheek.

"It's true," he confirmed, brushing his fingers across the back of her neck, never one to deny having her closer.

"I know but I like to hear you say it."

"It used to terrify you," he reminded her. 

She pulled back, looking concerned. 

"It was the liking it that terrified me, never you saying it,” she corrected emphatically, taking responsibility for her own fears.

"And what about now?" He questioned. 

"Now?” She paused to draw out the tension. “Now I think I’m drunk on it," she confessed with a grin.

At that point, kissing her madly was completely out of his control. Pulling her down onto his rug might have been avoided if she had protested but she certainly hadn’t fought him on it, and being laid out on his back, well, that was out of his hands entirely. 

As she lay naked beside him, giggling at their childish lack of self-control and nipping at his jaw playfully, Jack considered the possibility that he may have died and gone to heaven some time in the last hour. 

“Jack,” she began, wanting his attention. 

“Hm?” 

“I know that you didn’t ask, but I love you quite unbearably as well.” 

He smiled. 

“Well, that's because I’m not as demanding as you,” he teased.

“Ten minutes ago, you were,” she volleyed back and he couldn’t deny that. 

“Perhaps what we should be demanding is a bed. It’s ungentlemanly to make you lay naked on the parlor rug.”

“Mm, there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be,” she sighed.

He couldn't disagree.


	25. Antarctica

When he turned the corner, she saw a familiar hopeless look in his eyes. She had only seen it once before but seeing it again took her breath away momentarily before she came to her senses and remembered that they were beyond that now.

"Absolutely not." She crossed her arms and looked him square in the eye. "You are not going to get rid of me that easily."

He smiled morosely at his thoughts being called out so clearly. He wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized. "You deserve better than this."

“Well," she pulled away to fix his coat for him, "I’ve taken a fairly extensive survey of men and have found that ‘better than this’ doesn’t exist, so we’ll just have to make do with each other.” 

It was a dirty trick, to remind him of the late night and the bottle of wine that started this whole mess in the first place but she wasn’t above playing it.

"How extensive?" He frowned suspiciously as he put his arm around her waist to direct her out of the building.

"I'm missing Antarctica," she offered and it made him chuckle. And after his rough night, that was worth everything. 

"Saving it for a special occasion?" He inquired. 

"Only if you'll be there," she responded truthfully. 

The stutter in his step couldn’t be missed and she turned around to face him. 

“Turned your head, didn’t I?” She grinned.

“Every day,” he whispered before pulling her close and kissing her. 


	26. Respite

“Jack?” She called from the kitchen. 

“In here,” he called back as he set his glass of whiskey to the side in surprise. She’d had plans with Mac and he hadn’t expected to see her tonight. “Hello,” he greeted as she came around the corner. “How was your dinner?”

She didn’t reply, choosing instead to kick off her shoes in the middle of the parlor and climb into his lap. 

Amused by the way that she immediately clung to his chest, he went with it, laying back until they were horizontal. 

“Long day?” He teased as he stroked the back of her neck.

“Don’t ask, just hold,” she pouted, her voice a bit muffled by the material of his jumper.

“Alright,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. He held her there, quietly stroking her hair for a few minutes before she began to speak. 

“Do me a favor?” She asked and he waited for her to continue. “Remind me that Foyle is dead,” she looked up at him. 

Jack sighed as he realized why she had suddenly craved his affection.

“He is dead,” he assured her. “Mac signed the paperwork. He is not coming back.”

She nodded, taking comfort in his words, before putting her head back down onto his chest.

“What happened?” He asked.

“I thought that I saw him tonight,” she confessed sheepishly. “I was leaving Mac’s and when I turned the corner, there he was, standing outside the University, tweed and all. And even though I know that he’s gone, I still thought…”

“You thought that he’d come back for you,” Jack sighed, knowing how terrified she must have been.

“I hate that he still has a hold over me,” she confessed and Jack kissed her on top of her head, unsure of what else he could do for her.

“You’re safe here,” he reminded her. “I’d never let anything happen to you on my watch.”

“I know,” she nodded.

“That settles it then, you’ll lay here with me and nothing will happen.” 

He felt her grin against his chest but she didn’t comment. Before long, her breathing evened out and Jack thought it was safe to move her to the bedroom. 

A small whimper of disapproval came as he lifted her into the air but he soothed her with a shush as he carried her down the hall.

He lay her down on the bed and undressed her as best he could without disrupting her slumber before changing into his own pajama pants and joining her in bed. She curled up against him immediately, seeking him out again.

“Don’t let go,” she murmured as her grip around his back tightened.

“Never,” he promised.


	27. Domestic matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not doing a December fic this year because *gestures broadly*. But I will make an honest effort to post a lot more of these little things. I'm going through my notes folder and finding things that are close to done that I can send out.

“Hello,” she greeted from her desk as Jack entered the parlor. He tossed his suit coat onto the arm of the chair before walking over to kiss the top of her head.

“What’s all this?” He asked as he undid his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. 

“Oh, estate papers from my solicitor. I needed to change Dot’s last name and that single change requires no less than 100 signatures. I don’t know how you do so much paperwork every day without stabbing yourself through the eye with your pen,” she teased dryly, never looking up from her task.

Jack smiled. He wasn’t necessarily surprised by her generosity but it made him happy to think that she would consider the young woman in her will.

"I reaped the benefits of a fair divorce," he faux-bragged as he poured himself a cold martini. "Half of the Robinson estate disappeared with a single signature."

“Well, in the event of my untimely death, you'll get at least some of it back,” she promised. 

Jack slowly lowered the pitcher back to the drinks cart with a confused frown. 

“What does that mean?” He asked, bristling at the thought of being included in her will. 

“Oh, don’t be like that. Everyone is getting a little something. Hugh and Dot, Jane, Mac, Mr. Butler, Cec and Alice, Bert, the whole lot of you. There’s more than enough to go around.”

“Well, while you are editing, you can take the opportunity to remove me from it entirely," he said as he tossed an olive in his cocktail.

“Jack, don’t be ridiculous,” she frowned at his uncooperativeness.

“I’m quite serious,” he turned around. "I’ve spent far too many hours standing over people because of the contents of their wills. Give your money to someone else. Donate it. I don’t care, but I don’t want any part of it,” he said stubbornly.

“What makes you think that I’m leaving you money?” She folded her arms defiantly over her chest.

“Aren’t you?” He was nonplussed by her hard stare.

She rifled through the papers until she found what she was looking for and she cleared her throat dramatically.

“To Jack Robinson, I leave: the parlor’s drink cart and accessories,” she stared pointedly at the glass in his hand, “my piano, my draughts set, my Pierre Sarcelle painting, my small cedar trunk and everything held within, including but not limited to a tin sheriff’s pin, a blue swallow pin, our correspondence, and a bottle of French perfume…"

Jack held up his hand, getting the point and feeling completely foolish for his assumptions. This wasn’t about her being a benefactress, this was a romantic overture.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, setting his glass aside to rub his hands together sheepishly.

Phryne laid the paper back down on the desk.

“While I do appreciate your position on the subject,” she said as she crossed the room, “there are some things in this world that I simply won’t let anyone else have.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What you decide to do with them afterwards is your prerogative but in my mind, they belong to you.” 

He nodded, not having any other choice but to accept her offer. 

“Good.” She kissed him sweetly before smiling in victory. 

He wanted to change the subject and they were in the perfect position so he did what came to mind first. He began dancing with her, swaying her slowly in a circle. She looked charmed by the action as he took her hand and spun her around once. When she came back into his arms, he dipped her playfully and she began laughing with her entire body. He pulled her up and she curled into his chest. 

“Oh, I love you,” she giggled. 

Jack stopped dancing, unable to do anything but focus on what she had just said. 

Only a few short weeks ago, during another dance, she’d informed him that despite her experiences, she’d never believed that you could fall in love from a single dance. Now, she had gone and done just that. 

“I’m sorry," she took a step back, "I didn't…”

“Phryne, Phryne, don’t,” he smiled as he pulled her back towards him. “I love you too,” he revealed.

“You do?” She looked into his eyes, wanting to believe him. 

“Yes, so keep dancing with me,” he smiled.

As they danced, Jack wondered if there would ever come a day when they would take this feeling for granted. He couldn’t see it happening, but he’d lived long enough to know that it happened. It somehow made it more precious.

“You know, now that you have a list of your household assets,” Phryne began and Jack raised his eyebrows, eager to hear how she was going to finish her thought, “if you wanted to bring a bag of your own things with you, or even keep some supplies here, I wouldn’t be opposed,” she informed him.

“No?” He smiled at her less than subtle suggestion. 

“One night, you might grow tired of sneaking away under the cover of night,” she shrugged far too casually to be believed.

“Is that what I’ve been doing?” He squinted, passively disagreeing.

“I want you to know that you don't need to rush out the door,” she conveyed. "We're more than prepared to host you until morning, or even longer, should you feel the desire."

“That’s very kind,” he praised as he gave her another twirl.

When she came back into his arms, she was practically fidgeting for an answer. He smiled to himself at her impatience and thought that he might tease her just a little bit more. It was good for her to be kept off-balance every once and awhile.

“So, do you think that you might?” She asked.

“I’ll consider it,” he promised. 

"What is there to consider?"

"If I hold out, you might get persuasive," he pointed out. "I like it when you're persuasive." 

"You bring a bag and I'll give you reasons to stay until sunrise," she murmured.

"You've got a deal," he smiled.


End file.
